


Mohinder's Mom

by out_there



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-15
Updated: 2008-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:24:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mohinder's mom didn't know about Molly or Matt, not until she stayed with her son for three weeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mohinder's Mom

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe a silly idea that made me giggle got so long. Huge thanks to [](http://celli.livejournal.com/profile)[**celli**](http://celli.livejournal.com/) who listened to me talk about this story for weeks and happily let me steal entire ideas from her. (No, really. At least a third of this is cannibalised straight from her head.) Thanks to everyone who commented with enthusiasm and glee as I worked on this and thank you to [](http://boymommytotwo.livejournal.com/profile)[**boymommytotwo**](http://boymommytotwo.livejournal.com/) for the careful beta.

When Matt told his mom, it was surprisingly easy. Probably because he hadn't meant to tell her.

He'd been on the phone with her, giving her details about his new address (Mohinder's apartment), his new job (NYPD; "Like Law and Order?" she'd asked brightly) and his new living arrangements. He talked about Molly and finding her in L.A; he talked about being shot protecting her again in New York. (He didn't know how to tell her about their powers, so he'd improvised and said the guy who killed Molly's parents had tracked her down). He explained that her guardian had let Matt stay with them while his transfer came through.

"So what's he like? This..." Pause. She was never good with names. "This... Manjinder?"

"Mohinder, Mom," Matt said, pausing while tried to formulate an answer. An answer other than 'amazing'. "He's smart, like freakishly smart. He was a genetics professor in India."

"And...?"

Matt shrugged, shifted the phone in his hands and said, "He's a good guy. He's a good cook and he's great with Molly -- she adores him -- and... he's a really decent guy, Mom. You'd like him. He's polite and--"

"Matty," she said, and she hadn't called him that in a while, "is this like Steve Waugh back in the eleventh grade?"

It was as if someone had turned the gravity up high and dragged all Matt's organs to the floor. He took a shallow breath and managed, "Steve?"

"You know," she said gently, "like you and Steve?"

Matt would have sworn on his grandfather's grave that his Mom didn’t know about Steve. That had been years ago, all the way back to high school. For nearly a year Steve had walked home with Matt, spent most afternoons on the couch together -- watching TV, listening to music, making out -- but he was always gone before Matt's mom got home. Matt had been sure it was a secret.

Except there was something in her tone. It made him think of the first time she met Janice. It took Matt six months to build up the courage to take Janice home. And then his mom simply stepped forward and said, "It's lovely to meet you."

So he swallowed. "Yeah, Mom. It's... It's a lot like that."

"Then the three of you will have to visit sometime," she said, barely breaking her rhythm as she continued, "and speaking of visiting, your cousin..."

***

When Mohinder told his mom...

Well.

That was more difficult.

***

"I was talking to my mother," Mohinder explained, although it wasn't necessary. Every time he called home, Matt could hear the difference in his accent. For the next few hours, Mohinder would sound, well, more like Apu from the Simpsons. His r's would roll around his mouth, his s's morphed into z's and the pitch of his vowels became higher.

"Yeah?" Matt asked, trying not to think, 'Thank you, please come again!' inside his head. It was a hard battle. "She good?"

"She's decided to visit me." Mohinder swallowed, avoiding Matt's eyes. "She thought it would be a delightful surprise. She'll be here next week."

"No offence, but you look kind of worried." He looked freaked out and almost terrified, but Matt didn't want to put it that way. "Is there a problem?"

"She's coming for three weeks. I'm wondering how we can explain you living here." Mohinder smiled nervously, and Matt figured the joke had fallen flat. "Maybe you should say that your place is getting exterminated."

"For three weeks?"

"Maybe it has a lot of cockroaches," Mohinder said hopefully.

Matt blinked a few times and then said slowly, "You're not joking."

"No."

"You really didn't tell her?"

"She's my mother!" Mohinder declared defensively.

"That's my point," Matt replied. He lowered his tone so the conversation could escape Molly's attention. "How did you not tell your _mom_ that Molly and I are living with you?"

"Let me think," Mohinder replied, slow and sarcastic. "How did I not mention to my mother that I am now living in America with two gifted individuals who possess powers, and that I am raising an orphaned child with my male lover?"

There was a pause, and then Matt said, "Is it the gay thing?"

"No," came the quick reply. "Well, yes, but it's not only that. As dreadful as the possibility of her knowing my romantic history may be, it's possible. However, she doesn't know about Molly."

"The minute she meets Molly, she'll fall in love with her. You know she will." Matt huffed a laugh, and bumped Mohinder's shoulder with his. "We did."

Mohinder didn't look reassured. "Of course she will. But do you have any idea how my mother will react when she finds out we're raising her grandchild in America?"

***

Matt laughed easily at Mohinder's irrational fears. He chuckled when Mohinder started scrubbing their already clean (okay, their close-enough-to-clean) apartment. He smiled indulgently when Mohinder had moved the terrarium and set up a small Hindu shrine in its place. (He even had the self-control not to make any bad Quik-E-Mart jokes.)

But when Mohinder started worrying about sleeping arrangements, it wasn't funny any more.

"Where do you expect me to sleep?"

"You can't sleep in my bed." There was a slight tinge of panic to Mohinder's quiet tone. It had been there for days. "You simply can't."

"She's staying for three weeks. I'm not taking the sofa for three weeks," Matt said as Mohinder went back to hanging up shirts. The main outlet for Mohinder's growing tension had been laundry. The past five days their closet had been arranged by colour, then style, then formality. Matt had no idea what tonight's rearrangement was based on, so he decided to fight dirty.

Stepping behind Mohinder, Matt slid his arms around up and around, pulling Mohinder back against his chest. He smoothed a hand down low on Mohinder stomach and pressed a kiss behind his ear. "You don't want to share a bed with me for three whole weeks?"

A soft gasp escaped Mohinder's lips, and Matt knew he had him. He pressed back against Matt and wrapped hands around Matt's wrists. "I want to share a bed with you right now," Mohinder said suggestively.

"That can be arranged." Matt pressed another kiss to the soft skin at Mohinder's neck. Mohinder sighed.

Then Mohinder froze.

"But that is not the issue," he said, pulling away and turning around. "I can't tell my mother goodnight and then go to bed with you. Not while she's under the same roof."

Matt rolled his eyes. The other stuff had been amusingly insane, but there was nothing funny about being kicked out his own bed. "I'm not suggesting international sexcapades while she's here. I'm saying that this is my bed and--"

"There is no way I can tell my mother that."

Matt huffed out a breath. Normally, he would have left the conversation, headed back to Molly and the TV. But Mohinder's expression was desperate. And scared.

Matt was lucky. He'd practically won the Mom Lottery and managed to tell her without having to actually tell her…but Mohinder hadn't and he looked terrified. Matt wasn’t the type to walk away from someone scared and needing help.

"Look," he said, leaning forward and pulling Mohinder into a hug. "Maybe there's some middle-ground here. Maybe we can come up with a reasonable excuse for sharing a bed that doesn't involve coming out to your mom."

The whisper was so quiet Matt nearly missed it. "Thank you."

***

Matt understood once he met the woman. She was classy, dressed in a exquisite, traditional sari. She was graceful when she moved and the way she spoke. She was quietly authoritative in a way that Matt was convinced he only recognized from the Interpersonal Communication of Criminal Leadership in-service they'd held at the station. This woman had Molly saying 'yes, please' and 'thank you very much’ and left Matt with the urge to say, 'Yes, ma’am, no ma'am, three bags full, ma'am.' For a woman who only came up to his shoulder and didn't carry a weapon, that was impressive.

Her presence made Mohinder stand up straighter. It made him speak quietly and not in English. (Matt thought it might have been Tamil. Mohinder had tried to teach him one night, but they'd been naked at the time and Matt was fairly distracted.) It made Mohinder hold doors open, carry suitcases and duck his head when he spoke.

It was a superpower: the ability to replace a sarcastic, mischievous Mohinder with a dutiful, painstakingly polite copy.

They finished a tour of the apartment and Matt decided to jump in feet first -- "We're so glad you're here, Mrs. Suresh," he said. "Dr. Suresh," she calmly corrected -- and went on to explain that she would be sleeping on the fold-out sofa bed.

"That's usually where I sleep, but I'll bunk up with Mohinder while you're here," Matt said, pasting on his most believable trust-me-I'm-a-cop smile. "It'll be fine."

He paused, waiting for Mohinder to interpret but she replied in careful, accented English. "That is very hospitable of you, Mr. Parkman."

"Please," he said, wondering if Mohinder had told her he was a detective (since she clearly understood the importance of titles), "call me Matt."

***

Mohinder cooked a dinner he had carefully planned. His mother -- Matt refused to think of her as Dr. Suresh, his household already had one of those -- raised an eyebrow, sharp gaze watching him slice cucumbers and carrots. She said something, not in English, in a sweet, concerned tone. From the strain in Mohinder's smile, she managed to hit a nerve.

The conversation over the dinner table didn’t make things any better.

Matt knew Mohinder spoke other languages (real languages, not just Pig Latin like Matt) but it was surprising to hear Mohinder speak them fluently with his mother. They switched languages a few times from Tamil to French (or maybe Italian) to what sounded like German and then something Matt couldn't recognise. (Chinese? Japanese? Arabic?) Whatever it was, it made Mohinder frown, shake his head and return to Tamil.

Just as Matt had emptied his plate and was desperately wishing Mohinder's mom ate faster, she turned to Molly in precise, careful English. "How old are you, Molly?"

"I'm ten," Molly said. There was a moment of hesitation, like she was wondering if she should add a please or thank you to that sentence. Matt understood completely.

"Do you learn any other languages at school?"

Molly nodded, carefully swallowing before she spoke. "We do Spanish on Fridays. Last week we learned how to ask where something is. _Estoy buscando mi hotel_."

"Or _la policia_ ," Matt added, grinning at her. She'd taught him that phrase on their trip home from school.

"Very good," Mohinder's mom said to Molly. "My Mohinder never learned Spanish. It is a very useful language, especially if you wish to travel South America."

Mohinder's mother wasn't constantly rude. She was nice to Molly asked about her school and her favourite subjects, what she loved most about California and if she missed LA. And while Matt did the dishes, Mohinder talked to his mom and relaxed. He smiled, even laughed, so the woman wasn't mean.

But she didn't talk to Matt. Unless she was speaking to Molly, Mohinder's mom didn't speak in English. And even when she was talking to Molly, she made it quite clear that she was _only_ talking to Molly.

***

Matt cornered Mohinder the first moment he got alone with him. It happened to be the bathroom, so the conversation was hissed while Mohinder washed his hands.

"Is your mom uncomfortable using English?" Matt asked.

"I doubt it." Mohinder turned off the tap and wiped his hands on the towel. "When I was a child, we spoke it at home."

"Then is it my imagination that she's only speaking English for Molly?"

"No." Mohinder paused. "Not exactly. But..."

"But what?" Matt asked, eyes narrowing. He knew Mohinder's hopeful, slightly guilty expression meant he was about to hear something he wouldn't like.

Mohinder tried to smile; it looked more like a grimace. "She's under the impression that Molly is your daughter."

"Yeah," Matt said, nodding.

"And that you were recently divorced."

"From a certain perspective, both of those things are true."

Mohinder hid his head in his hands. It was an oddly childlike gesture of surrender. He took a deep breath and said, "She doesn't like the idea of a man leaving his wife and taking her child to the other side of the country. She thinks it's a needlessly vicious thing to do."

"Your mom doesn't like how I acted in our cover story? That's why she doesn't like me?" Matt kept his voice low, but only because he couldn't believe this. "For the record, I'm great with parents. Parents love me. Moms, dads, even grandparents love me."

"I'm certain they do." Mohinder smiled a little; for a moment, it made Matt feel better about the crushing unfairness of being disliked for something he hadn't actually done. "But I can't argue in your favour without drawing her attention to lies."

"So, she thinks, what? That I'm selfish and nasty?"

Again, that guilty expression flashed across Mohinder's face. "Matt, she was married to my father for many years."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that she holds certain traditional opinions about marriage."

"I get that she doesn't believe in divorce, but it doesn't warrants this silent treatment. Especially not for the next three weeks."

"I'll talk to her. Ask her to be more considerate of you. But still," Mohinder shrugged, clearly not happy with the direction of the conversation, "she is only acting out of concern for me."

"Because I'm such a bad influence?"

"Actually, yes," Mohinder said and Matt felt his jaw drop open in surprise. "She's worried that I'm over thirty and still not married. She's worried that she raised me with too much freedom and has done me a disservice by not encouraging me to marry when I was younger. Apparently, I am now living in America, where my closest friend failed at marriage and abandoned his family when life became difficult. She's worried that staying here will ensure I remain single."

Mohinder glanced up and saw the expression on Matt's face. Matt must have looked as hurt as he felt because Mohinder quickly stepped forward and kissed him gently.

"Matthew, clearly she's wrong. I know what kind of man you are and how deeply you love. But there is no way I can explain that to my mother without her seeing how much I love you in return."

There was another kiss, warm and soft. This time, Matt was the one to break it. "We can do this. It's only three weeks, right?"

"Just another twenty days," Mohinder said. Then he looked horrified at the thought.

Matt snorted. "Hey, don't forget we saved Manhattan. Well, we helped save it."

"But we didn't have to save it from my mother."

Matt rolled his eyes. Then he pushed Mohinder out the bathroom door.

***

Matt decided he was fine with it. He could handle it. He'd been a cop for over a decade: junkies had yelled at him, hookers had sworn at him and abusive boyfriends had threatened to "have his badge" for interfering while they gave their girlfriend a black eye. He could handle one slightly-over-middle-age, quietly spoken Indian woman.

He could ignore her disapproving frown as he poured a bowl of Frosty Loops. ("Breakfast is a very important meal, Molly. Would you like to try some of my yogurt and muesli?" she asked.)

When he got stuck at the station and picked Molly up late, Mohinder's mom greeted them and immediately looked at the small, delicate gold watch on her wrist. That was fine with him (even if he heard her say, "Being punctual is not only about convenience and being organized, Molly. It is also a way of showing respect to the people you have agreed to meet," as he hung his jacket up).

He could even cope with eating spinach. Three nights in a row. (She must have seen him pull a face the first night but at least she didn't lecture Molly on the importance of vegetables.)

Mohinder seemed pleased to have his mom staying with them but the nervousness of the last week hadn't completely disappeared, so Matt waited until Mohinder closed their bedroom door that night. He didn't want to make a big deal of it, so he approached the topic casually. "Is it my imagination, or did we have spinach last night?"

"And the night before," Mohinder agreed softly, shrugging out of his shirt. Matt watched him closely. Just because he couldn't touch for another seventeen days, didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the view. "My mother's trying to teach Molly to cook it."

"Any particular reason?" Matt asked carefully.

"It was one of my favourite dishes as a child." Mohinder smiled, soft and a little wistful. For that smile, Matt would eat spinach all week.

***

Matt was good at rolling with life's punches.

Switching from Frosty Loops to toast for breakfast: small sacrifice. Swallowing mouthfuls of slushy spinach only hurt the tastebuds. He even made an effort to get out of work on time, using the excuse of, "Mother-In-Law. Don't ask."

He happily compromised his nights off. He started listening to his iPod and reviewing case files, or playing board games with Molly. (He'd noticed the disapproving glances when they'd spent nights watching TV together. They had TiVo. He could catch up on Prison Break later.)

Matt was dealing well with his fairly-polite-yet-rude houseguest. Right up until she argued with Mohinder.

It wasn't a family argument Parkman-style. If it had been Matt's family, there would have been screaming, yelling, flailing arms and gifts thrown back in someone's face. It would have ended with shouts of 'I have no son!' and 'I can't believe I was in twenty hours of labour for this!'

The Sureshes, it seemed, argued differently. Mohinder's mother was speaking quite gently and reasonably, but it made Mohinder tense up, shoulders hunching as his answers became shorter and shorter.

Mohinder ended it by switching into English. "This is ridiculous. I am not discussing this any further." He walked sharply into the bedroom.

Mohinder's mom had the nerve to glare at Matt, as if he'd been the cause of this. Matt just rolled his eyes at her, obvious enough that she had to have noticed, and went after him.

"You okay?" Matt asked, closing the door behind him.

Mohinder was sitting on the end of the bed, straight as a post with his fingers laced tightly on his lap. "I am fine, thank you very much."

That level of politeness couldn't be a good sign.

"Yeah, you look fine." Matt shrugged and sat down beside Mohinder. "Mind you, I don't have a great base for figuring these things out. In the Parkman household, that's a minor squabble. The main attraction would be someone throwing a plate across the room and someone else smashing a glass just on principle."

Mohinder looked sideways at him. For a moment, there was the hint of a smile. "There was a discussion."

"Sure, there was a discussion. Like the Vietnam War was a negotiation."

"Luckily, I don't think guerrilla tactics will be used." Mohinder huffed out a sigh and collapsed backwards onto the bed. Staring up at the ceiling he said, "It is amazing that one can love and respect one's parents but still be incredibly thankful that they live in another country."

"Families," Matt said with another shrug. "Can't live with them, can't shoot them without doing time."

Matt twisted, leaning down on an elbow. He used his free hand to cup Mohinder's cheek. Mohinder leaned into the touch, which was a nice change from the last week. Before his mom had even got here, Mohinder had started pulling back guiltily, apologising. Even at night, while they were sleeping fully clothed, Matt had to coax him into holding hands beneath the covers.

Matt was starting to feel touch-starved. He'd forgotten what it was like to live with someone, to lie beside them in the same bed, without being touched. With Janice, this pattern had become permanent: no kissing, no hugging, no friendly hand on his shoulder or casual touches as they passed each other.

It was going to be a long three weeks.

Matt dragged his mind back to the current issue. "What did she say?"

"The short version?" Mohinder closed his eyes. "I care too much for Molly."

"The hell?"

"My mother thinks that it is quite admirable that I should take such a responsible and loving attitude towards a child, especially one missing a parental figure. However, in the long run, it is not in Molly's best interest to encourage her to rely upon me. It is also not in my best interest to become so attached to a child that is not my own."

Matt blinked, lost for words.

"It is, apparently, highly ill-advised for me to allow this to continue. I am a single man and when it is convenient for this situation to end, when I am offered a better job or you--" Mohinder opened his eyes, looking at Matt. "I am not going to repeat what she said about you but she implied..."

"That I'm a bad father?" Matt suggested, and Mohinder winced, nodding. "Yeah, she's been implying that to me for a while."

"I can't believe that she travelled across oceans to tell me that Molly would be better off if I cared less. That if I did less at home, spent less time with her, concentrated more on my research and career, it would be best for both of us."

It took Matt a moment to recognise the expression on Mohinder's face. He was hurt. Leaning over, Matt pressed a kiss to the smooth, warm skin of Mohinder's forehead. "She's wrong."

"Maybe," Mohinder allowed, "but--"

"No buts. She's wrong. She thinks that Molly only belongs to me, and we should move out." Clearly, she hoped it would be sooner rather than later, but Matt figured this wasn't the best time to mention the 'For Lease' ads miraculously circled in his morning paper. "She's scared that you and Molly will end up heartbroken. It's a compliment, really."

"My mother thinks the best thing I can do for a child is stay out of its life," Mohinder said, voice sounding suspiciously rough. "How is that a compliment?"

"She can see how much Molly loves you and how much you love her. She can see, after only being here a week, that the three of us are a family." Matt reached up to push a strand of hair off Mohinder's forehead, then smoothed it down, enjoying the soft slide of hair against his fingers. "That you're Molly's dad as much as I am."

Mohinder managed a small smile, and Matt took advantage of the moment to kiss him. It was just once, open-lipped with a tiny brush of tongue, but he wasn't surprised by Mohinder pulling back with a shocked gasp and a reprimanding, "Matthew!"

It was still worth it.

***

Matt hadn't thought about his upcoming days off. Sure, he thought about them in the sense of 'thank heavens I've only got two more shifts to go' and planning what to clear off the TiVo first, but he hadn't considered how having another person at home would effect his precious time off work.

He had a routine going. He'd get up, get dressed, take Molly to school. He'd come home, change into sweats and the rattiest t-shirt he could find, clean the bathroom and do the vacuuming, and the laundry if he absolutely had to. Then he'd get a bowl, a spoon, a box of Frosty Loops and a carton of milk, settle down on the couch and spend the rest of the day clearing Prison Break, NCIS and Desperate Housewives out of the TiVo. (They were the shows that were too adult for Molly to watch and too unrealistic to hold Mohinder's attention.)

It started okay. He was too busy cleaning and sorting clothes, thankful there wasn't enough to warrant a trip to the Laundromat, to notice the extra presence in the house. But when he went to watch TV, it was hard not to feel the judgmental stare directed at his box of cereal.

Mohinder's mom was sitting at the small table, newspaper pages spread across the surface, so it wasn't like there was space for him to eat at the table anyway. But she still glared at his cereal as he padded over to the couch and took every available opportunity to turn pages loudly, paper rustling and crinkling through every quiet scene.

They only had one TV, so Matt couldn't disappear into the bedroom to watch. He tried suggesting that the light in Molly's room might be better for reading, but she gave a tiny, extremely false smile and shook her head.

He could feel himself getting edgy. Sitting on the couch, he couldn't help concentrating on the crinkle sound of paper behind him, the occasional long-suffering sigh, the quiet footsteps as she went to the bathroom and came back. All of this without saying a word to him.

He tried listening to her thoughts but, unlike Mohinder, she didn't think in English at all.

Matt figured he was reading too much into it. Maybe she wasn't trying to be rude, she just didn't want to interrupt his show. "Are you a big fan of TV?"

She shook her head slightly.

"More into reading, huh?"

He got a blank look and a striving-to-be-polite smile.

"It's one of my guilty pleasures. I get a day off and it's great to take some time, slob around on the couch and catch up on my favourite shows. I know it's trashy stuff, and there is no way that real casework ever goes as well as this," he pointed to the screen, at the paused shot of NCIS, "but it's fun to switch the brain off for a while and stop thinking."

She blinked at him once and then turned back to her newspaper. Actually, Matt was sure she was reading _his_ newspaper. And she was probably circling the "For Lease" section again.

Matt stabbed at the play button.

***

The real trouble came at lunch. "I'm making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. Do you want one?"

It wasn't a hard question to answer. In fact, Mohinder's mom answered it with a short shake of her head and went back to reading, ignoring him as he made his sandwich.

It wouldn't have been a problem. Wouldn't have bothered him, except the moment he cut the sandwich and walked out of the kitchen, she walked past him and started making a sandwich of her own.

A peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

He could have made that. He'd offered to make that. It was insane.

"I just offered to make you that," he said, annoyed and sounding it.

She raised an eyebrow as if she couldn't understand him.

"This whole 'not talking to me' thing is wearing thin. You speak English to Molly. You speak English in front of me. I know you know what I'm saying."

Her expression didn't change.

"Do you have any idea how rude you're being to me in my own home? You can stay under our roof, you can accept our hospitality, but you can't even manage the most basic of manners?"

"This is my son's home," she said in a sickeningly-sweet tone. "If you dislike how you are treated in it, Mr. Parkman, please feel free to leave it at any time."

Matt spluttered. "Hey, lady, just because you're here for another two weeks doesn't mean you have the right to dictate your son's entire life."

"I have Mohinder's best interests at heart."

"Like I don't?" Matt demanded, stalking back into the kitchen.

She stared at him, as cool and calm as Angela Petrelli. What was it with New York City and scary moms? After a moment of careful thought in Tamil, of course, she said, "I am quite sure you don't intend any deliberate harm to my son."

"That's rich! You think you can swan over here and act like you're the only one who cares about Mohinder? I don't remember you even seeing him in the last year we've been here. From what I remember, there's been a call a month."

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he felt like a bug under a microscope. It only made him angrier.

"A week. You've been here a week and you think you've got the right to tell him not to love Molly, to imply that him being in Molly's life is somehow wrong? Ask him sometime how he saved her life. Ask her why she calls him as her personal hero." Matt shoved the plate down on the bench, banging it loudly. "Just because you think I'm some dumb cop who's only ever lived in one country and only ever learned one language, don't think I haven't noticed how often you mention Chennai University. You have no right to come here and tell Mohinder he's not living his life right. He's happy here. So how about being a half-decent mom and supporting your kid?"

She smoothed a non-existent crease in her pink sari. "Not all parents take such a lackadaisical approach to guiding their children, Mr. Parkman."

"Since you've come here you've been a rude, judgemental busybody, sticking your nose into things that are none of your business!" Clenching his fists, Matt dragged a breath through his nose and tried to get his temper under control. It took three deep breaths before he could manage, "I'm going to go pick up Molly."

Mohinder's mom stared pointedly at the wall clock.

"I'm going to go for a very long walk and then pick up Molly," Matt corrected, realising Molly would still be in school for another two hours. "I think we'll go to the cinema and be back much, much later tonight."

Matt picked up his uneaten sandwich, grabbed his jacket out of the closet and very carefully did not slam the door on his way out.

***

They never got to the cinema. As soon as he picked Moll up, she shoved a pink and purple invitation into his hand and started talking a hundred miles a minute.

"It's a birthday party and I think all of the girls in my grade are going but Sharona was only allowed to invite three girls to sleep over at he place and she asked me and can I go, Matt? Can I go?"

She looked up at him, puppy-dog eyes in full force, but Matt ignored it. "That depends, Molly. When is it?"

"Next weekend. The party's on Saturday and I'd be home on Sunday, so it wouldn't interfere with school and Sharona said her mom can drop me home so you wouldn't even have to come pick me up," Molly said, in one excited rush.

Matt paused for effect. He knew Sharona's parents. He'd ransacked their minds the first time Molly had gone over to play, so he knew Molly would be fine. But it was a bad idea to give in to Molly straight away. She needed boundaries, or at least the illusion of dads that thought about her requests before they gave in.

"Okay," he said and kept talking through her squeal of delight. "You can go to the party. I'm not sure about the sleep-over so we'll discuss it with Mohinder when we get home."

Molly looked a little disappointed, but not much. Probably because she knew Mohinder was a pushover when it came to these sorts of things. "We'll need to buy her a present," Molly said seriously. "I can't go to her party without a present."

"How about we go buy one now?" Matt suggested and was rewarded with an enthusiastic hug.

***

After setting a budget of twenty bucks, they trawled through four different stores, only to return to buy the doll Molly had seen in the first one. They stopped for milkshakes and then headed home.

Hours in Molly's company had completely erased Matt's bad mood. He'd forgotten about the day's argument.

Until he opened the door and saw the thunderous expression on Mohinder's face.

Mohinder hugged her hello, saying, "Molly, sweetheart, can you stay here for a moment? I need to talk to Matt outside."

Molly shot Matt a sympathetic wince, showing she understood what that tone meant. "I'll get started on my homework."

"Good girl," Mohinder said and released her.

Matt put his keys back in his pocket and silently followed Mohinder out to the hall. They didn't start talking until the elevator doors closed behind them.

"My mother is only here for three weeks," Mohinder said, quietly furious. "You couldn't spend a day alone with her without fighting?"

"It's not like I started it."

"Did you call her rude and interfering?"

Matt cringed. "Yes."

"Did you say that my life was none of her business?"

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Matt started but the doors dinged open and Mrs. Ledson stepped in.

Mrs. Ledson was sixty-seven years old, five foot two inches and had permed white hair that fell flat across the crown. She smiled at them and said, "Good afternoon, Matt, Mohinder."

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Ledson," they replied in unison. There was something about her that made Matt feel like he was Molly's age and lived upstairs from his teacher. He secretly suspected Mohinder felt the same.

She turned back around to face the closing doors and Mohinder leaned closer to him. "I can't believe you told my mother we've lived together for a year."

"I didn't tell her that," Matt hissed back, keeping his voice low.

The slightly insulting eyebrow-raising thing had to run in the family, because Mohinder did it too. "Really?"

"I didn't tell her." Matt stopped, trying to remember precisely what he'd said. He hadn't told her they were living together. He'd only said she hadn't visiting in the last year… "I didn't mean to tell her."

"But you did," Mohinder said, a little too loudly.

Mrs Ledson turned around (thankfully saving Matt from the upcoming lecture). "Matt, have I ever told you about Mr. Ledson's mother?" she asked, reaching out and taking Matt's hand between hers.

"I don't think so, Mrs. Ledson."

"She was a horrible, nasty, scheming troublemaker," she said, cool, dry, wrinkled fingers patting the back of his hand. "Just remember that you marry the person, not their family. And if possible, make sure you don't live in the same state."

The elevator doors opened on the ground floor and Mrs. Ledson left them with a friendly wave.

Matt managed to keep a straight face while the doors closed. He pressed the button for their floor and managed to restrain his smile to a twitch of the lips. Then he looked sideways and caught Mohinder's eye.

They both burst out laughing.

"I can't believe we just got marriage advice from the nice little old lady who lives downstairs," Matt managed between gasping breaths. Mohinder was still laughing too hard to talk.

After a few false starts, the giggles finally subsided. "What are we going to tell my mother?" Mohinder asked tiredly, looping an arm around Matt's waist.

"We could invite Mrs. Ledson over," Matt suggested, which set them both off again.

***

In the end, they settled on an edited version of the truth. Matt had been shot in the line of duty, Mohinder had been Molly's doctor, and Matt's wife had divorced him while he was still in hospital. Matt had stayed with Mohinder while recuperating, and they'd decided they liked living in their makeshift family.

When Mohinder's mom looked at Matt, there was a new speculative gleam in her gaze. Matt wasn't sure if that was a good sign.

***

Matt couldn't sleep. Not because his pseudo-mother-in-law snored like a freight train (she did), but because Mohinder had messaged him twice tonight to say he'd be late.

It was eleven o'clock and Matt was slouched over the end of the bed, organising the last four months utilities' bills because it needed to be done. Not because he was worried. Certainly not because the idea of facing Mohinder's mom alone in the morning and tell her that her son hadn't come home terrified him.

There was a jingle of metal and a squeaking door in the other room. Matt reached for his gun on the shelf and stood up. He counted to seven, then the bedroom door opened and Mohinder stepped in, squinting at the light.

"You know," Mohinder said, pulling off his jacket and hanging it up, "I've actually memorised the furniture in that room. If we ever move it, I'm going to bruise my shins trying to navigate in the dark."

"Good thing I'm not planning to move it," Matt said, sliding his handgun onto the top shelf of their closet. Then an idea hit him. "Good thing you didn't wake up your mom, too."

By the time Mohinder looked up from undoing his shirt buttons, Matt had taken three steps closer. "Matt," Mohinder said, warningly.

Matt smoothed a hand under the open shirt, running his palms over body-warm cotton. He leaned in, close enough that their lips almost touched. "Your mom's asleep."

Mohinder breathed in sharply but a hand still landed on Matt's hip. "You can't be sure."

"I can hear her snoring." Matt tugged at Mohinder's next layer, getting inches of warm, bare skin for his effort.

"She could wake up," Mohinder said, but he didn't sound convinced. His eyes were half-closed, and his other hand was now squeezing Matt's ass. "She could hear us."

"Then we won't use the bed. No squeaky, muffled noises," Matt said, breathing the words against Mohinder's ear and feeling him shudder. He started working on Mohinder's belt, saying, "I'll just drop to my knees right here and blow you against the wall."

Mohinder's hands clenched, fingers digging into Matt's skin.

"You just need to stand here and be quiet," Matt said, unzipping and reaching past underwear to get his hand on Mohinder's half-hard cock. "I'm sure you can do that."

Then there was a scream.

It was Molly. A nightmare. They both rushed out the bedroom door, pulling clothes into place as they moved.

"Nightmare?" Mohinder asked.

"Normal nightmare," Matt confirmed, scanning Molly's thoughts as they opened her bedroom door and headed straight for her bed. It was an everyday type of nightmare: giving a Spanish presentation in her underwear and everyone laughing at her.

They were both well-trained for nightmares now. Mohinder went for the lamp. Matt went for the bed and gathered Molly into a hug before she really woke up. He rocked her and she mumbled against his chest, "It was a nightmare, but it wasn't... I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, guys."

Matt pressed a kiss against her forehead. "Honey, just because it isn't terrifying doesn't mean it wasn't scary."

She pulled back far enough to give him a strange look.

"Hey, you know what I mean," Matt said as Mohinder crouched beside them, wrapping an arm around Molly's back.

"What Matt means," Mohinder said gently, "is that it doesn't matter what type of nightmare it is. If anything scares you, sweetheart, we're going to be here."

"And we'll do something about it," Matt added.

"Even if that something is just tucking you in and making sure you know there's nothing you need to be scared of," Mohinder finished.

Matt smiled at him as he let go of Molly and got off the bed. He started pulling the covers up, but Mohinder apparently saw that as a challenge, since he jogged to the other side of her bed. He folded the covers over her shoulders, tucking the covers under her arms and sides.

"Oh, like a pastry," Matt said, getting the idea, repeating it on the other side, all the way down to Molly's ankles. It wasn't his fault that his tucking pulled the covers untucked Mohinder's side. Somehow it turned into a tucking war, and then a tickle-fight when Molly started giggling and objecting to being 'wrapped up like a mummy'.

It finished with Molly squealing her giggles. "Stop! Stop! Come on, you guys, stop!" They collapsed face down onto her bed, one each side of her and she wrapped a small arm around each of their shoulders and said softly, "You guys are the silliest dads ever."

She kissed them goodnight, which was their cue to leave. "Sweet dreams," Mohinder said, as he got up.

"Because if you don't have good dreams," Matt said, standing up, "there's a second tickle fight coming straight to this room."

Molly grinned. "Goodnight, guys."

It was only when Matt turned to leave that he saw Mohinder's mom standing in the doorway, quietly watching them. She asked something quietly and Mohinder nodded. Then he turned to Matt, asking, "Do you want a cup of tea? Or hot chocolate? I'm going to stay up for a bit."

"Nah," Matt said, internally cursing the lost opportunity. "I'm going straight to bed. Need my beauty rest."

Mohinder smiled. "I'll see you in the morning."

***

Matt was halfway through washing a dish when he paused and looked over at the couch. Mohinder was sitting on one end, lamp on beside him, flicking through scientific journals. Molly was snuggled up against his side, reading her English novel. Every so often she'd turn to Mohinder for help, pointing at an unfamiliar word and he'd bend his head down to hers, murmuring softly.

Smiling, Matt put the plate away and started drying the next one.

He continued to sneak glances of the pair of them, watching Molly's serious expression, the one she always wore for school work. Smiling as he recognized the fond affection on Mohinder's face. A less noble part of Matt noticed the curve of Mohinder's lips, the way the light caught on Mohinder's neck and the curve of cheek. Matt took a moment to imagine being alone in the apartment with Mohinder, walking over and licking just behind the curve of his ear...

He was startled out of his imagined scenario by a quiet, accented voice. "Perhaps I was somewhat wrong, Detective Parkman."

"Huh?" Matt asked, turning to face Mohinder's mom. "About what?"

"Perhaps," she said slowly, glancing over at the couch, "you are not indifferent to Mohinder's best interests."

Then she picked up her cup of tea and sat down on the other end of the couch.

Matt liked it better when she wasn't talking to him. At least then he'd been certain she didn't like him. Now he had that itch in the back of neck, that vague coiling in his gut, like he was interviewing a witness and being lied to. He didn't like it.

***

It was the calm before the storm. Matt was sure of it.

Mohinder's mom was speaking to him. Nothing deep and meaningful, nothing more intense than "Good morning," and an occasional "Will you be eating with us tonight?" but it was enough that he didn't feel like an invisible intruder in his own home.

It should have put him at ease, but there was something about the way she kept watching Mohinder and watching him. He'd be in middle of talking to Mohinder -- innocent how-was-your-day conversations -- and look up to find her dark eyes on them, her mouth pressed into a straight line.

There was a slim chance that she _knew_.

Matt had a pretty good intuition about these things. Part of being a cop was recognising what information someone already knew and what they were putting together from the cop's questions. He was pretty sure Mohinder's mom was figuring something out.

***

The storm, such as it was, came a few days later when Matt came home to find his little girl wearing a pale pink sari. The sari itself wasn't a problem (although the shiny material slid beneath his fingers and he nearly dropped Molly by accident). It was Molly's explanation of it.

"Do you like it, Matt? Mira gave this one to me and a blue one, and I don't know which one I like more. I think they're both really pretty."

"I'm sure they are," Matt said, pulling off his jacket. Then, "Who's Mira?"

"She's Mohinder's friend. She's in New York for a few days."

The name didn't ring a bell. "Yeah?"

"She and Mohinder went out to dinner to talk," Molly added. "Can we order Chinese?"

"Sure." Matt glanced over at the table, and Mohinder's mom smiled. There was something a little too satisfied about the brief nod that she gave him.

***

Matt only met Mira briefly when Mohinder came home, but after making small-talk, he found out several facts.

They'd done their Masters together, studying genetics.

They used to stay up all night drinking chai and trying to memorise text books.

She was now the head of genetics research at a company back in India. A while ago, she'd offered Mohinder a job there but he'd refused.

She was politely spoken and very attractive. Mira was walking, talking china-doll gorgeous with shiny black hair and big dark eyes, a sweet smile and espresso-coloured skin.

Matt tried not to think it, but the thought sprung upon him: she was almost a female version of Mohinder. He didn't say it out loud because Mohinder might take offence, but he couldn't help thinking it.

"So, old friend from college?" he asked that night, settling into bed.

"Yes," Mohinder said quickly, pulling off his shirt.

"Were you two lab partners?" Matt teased gently as Mohinder got into bed. "She seems like the lab partners type."

Then Mohinder moved over to his side and slid a hand under the waistband of Matt's boxers. Propped up on one elbow, he leaned over Matt, close enough to breathe the words against Matt's lips. "Can we talk about this later?"

Matt didn't get a chance to answer because Mohinder kissed him. Wet and deep, tongue fucking his mouth, a kiss that had a definite plan for where tonight was going. Matt was more than okay with that.

It was rushed and fumbling and fast, like teenagers trying to secretly get some action (unsurprising since Mohinder's mom was snoring in the next room) but it was good.

It was so good: Mohinder's hands on him, fingers scraping over skin; Mohinder breathing hard and fast, lining their cocks up and rocking through his fist.

Good enough that Matt had to bite down on Mohinder's shoulder to stay quiet; good enough that when Mohinder wanted to talk afterwards, Matt could barely manage grunts, let alone words.

"About Mira..."

"Huh?" Matt managed, lying against Mohinder's chest and still a little short of breath. He tried opening his eyes to force himself awake, but gave up quickly.

"When we met at university, we dated for a while."

Matt felt himself start to drift off. "Uh-huh."

"It lasted for a few years."

"Hmmmmm."

"In fact, we were engaged."

"Mmmm," Matt said, too asleep to say anything else.

***

Matt kept a tight hold on his cell phone as he walked around the station. He waited until he found an empty interview room and shut the door behind him before calling.

"Hello," Mohinder said, adding, "This isn't the best time for me to talk."

"Then I suggest you make your excuses and find somewhere you can talk," Matt growled.

"Ah."

Matt took a deep breath. If Mohinder fobbed him off, he'd be totally justified in stealing a squadron car and yelling at him in person. Then he heard the muffled sounds of Mohinder covering the phone and saying, "Excuse me, I need to take this."

Matt let the breath out slowly. He waited in silence as background noises got louder, then softer, until Mohinder said gently, "Matthew--"

"Your ex-fiancée!" Matt exploded. "Your mother brought over your ex-fiancée! And you go out to dinner with her?"

"Mira's in New York visiting the American labs of her company. It's not as if my mother flew her over to see me," Mohinder said, sounding far too self-righteous for Matt's liking.

"You do not get the moral high ground here. After sneaking out this morning before I even woke up, you've lost the moral high ground on this issue forever."

"I had an early meeting."

"Don't even try it. I don't need telepathy to know that little stunt was planned," Matt lowered his voice, "but I can always use it to double-check."

"You're over-reacting, Matthew."

That was clearly a lie.

"Over-reacting would be showing up at your lab with sirens blaring and dragging you away in handcuffs so I can yell at you until my throat's raw," Matt said, trying very, very hard to keep his voice close to a reasonable volume. "This, right now? This is me being an example of self-control."

"I went out to dinner with an old acquaintance and you are acting as if--"

"I'm acting as if you went out to dinner with a woman you once promised to marry!" Matt looked over at the window and saw Bendell and Lamb watching him with amused grins. Matt lowered his arm -- realised he'd been waving it around for emphasis -- and rolled his eyes at them. "You know it's a big deal. If it hadn't been a big deal, you wouldn't have told me like that."

There was quiet on the other end of the line. Then Mohinder said slowly, "I don't want this to be a big deal."

"Yeah, well..." Matt shrugged, not that Mohinder could see it. Then he remembered Lamb and Bendell, and closed the blind. "Taking your gorgeous ex out for a romantic meal makes it that."

"There was nothing romantic about it," Mohinder said earnestly. "We caught up on old times and spent most of the night discussing research. She's looking into seeing if she can arrange for me to visit her company's labs here. They're doing some amazing work with primate DNA and air-borne viruses."

"Since we're on the phone and all, I get that you can't see my eyes glazing over," Matt interrupted, surprisingly reassured by the scientific enthusiasm in Mohinder's tone, "but they are."

When really excited about research, Mohinder lost track of time and lost track of people. It wasn't intentional. He'd nearly missed Molly's birthday party last year due to 'an unexpected anomaly in the cellular reproductive cycle'. A chance to play with someone else's chemistry set would completely blind him to the social blunder of combining candlelight, a nice meal, and an ex.

"It's truly fascinating. There's a chance that similar genetic mutations have appeared in--"

"Glazing over. Right now." Matt paused and took a deep breath. "I want it noted for the record that I'm the world's best boyfriend."

"Indeed?"

"Not only have I put up with your mother for weeks -- weeks that have taken _years_ off my life -- but I'm also going to say," Matt closed his eyes, as if that made the next sentence easier to force out, "invite your ex-fiancée over to our place for dinner."

"Really?" Judging by Mohinder's tone, that was the last thing he'd expected Matt to say.

"Really. I'll even cook." At Mohinder's snort, Matt added, "Well, I'll pick up Chinese. That's almost cooking."

***

It could be worse. Matt repeated that to himself: it could be worse.

Mohinder's ex might have been an outrageous flirter. Or a tacky blonde from Las Vegas with cleavage spilling out every time she leaned forward. She could have been like Janice's ex and spent the entire night talking about the number of touch downs she'd scored in high school. Okay, that wasn't so likely, but the point was: it could have been worse.

She showed up on time and brought a lemon meringue pie for dessert. She spoke in English at the dinner table and included Molly in the conversation. For some reason, having her there encouraged Mohinder's mom to stay silent, so Matt counted that as another point in Mira's favour. Mira was friendly and told stories about university where they'd stayed up all night studying or -- Molly's favourite tale of the evening -- how Mohinder had got caught on the university's roof wearing Mira's floral, pink pyjamas.

"There was a perfectly reasonable explanation," Mohinder had spluttered around a mouthful of tea, and then been begged and bribed for the full tale. It involved an accident in the chemistry labs and a lack of clean clothes to change into and managing to lock himself out of the building. "I was planning on climbing back in one of the open windows except the Applied Mathematics professor saw me first. It was very embarrassing."

"But very funny," Mira said and helped clear the table.

She even offered to help wash the dishes, but Matt's smile had started to feel a bit strained so he waved her back towards Mohinder and the table. As he wiped up, he eavesdropped but it didn't help much. Half of the conversation was in Tamil and the other half was scientific mumbo-jumbo. But he couldn't detect any flirting. There were no teasing glances or subtle touches.

They weren't acting like two long-lost lovers. They were two scientists around a table, scribbling down notes and talking excitedly as they switched pages. Watching their dark heads bent over the table, pens scratching furiously, Matt wondered if Mohinder had been right this morning. Maybe Matt was over-reacting.

Then Mohinder's mom came to put on the kettle.

She nodded towards Mohinder and Mira and said softly, "They look so good together. Don't you agree, Detective Parkman?"

Matt stared at her, lost for words.

She smiled and asked, "Did my son mention they used to be engaged?"

Matt clenched his teeth hard and reminded himself why he wasn't allowed to grab his gun and shoot her right now: cops don't do well in prison.

***

"I have seen the face of evil," Matt hissed as soon as Mohinder closed the bedroom door.

Mohinder smiled indulgently. "Really?"

"I have seen the face of evil," he repeated, "and it's your mother."

"Don't you think you're--"

"If you say I'm over-reacting, I swear I'm going to beat you to a pulp."

"I was going to say 'being overly dramatic'," Mohinder amended, grinning as if this was funny, "but I suppose it amounts to the same thing." Then he stepped up behind Matt and wrapped his arms around Matt's chest, sliding his stubbled cheek against the side of Matt's neck.

"She stood our kitchen and told me you should be marrying Mira," Matt said as Mohinder's warm mouth started sucking at his skin. "Will you stop that? Having your mother point out you should be seeing someone else pretty much ruins the mood. Also, your mother's still awake."

"I know." Mohinder sounded mischievous, instead of properly frightened. "But if we were very quiet…"

"What? No!" Matt pushed Mohinder's hands away and spun around to face him. "Not the time, not the place. Not when your mother is living under our roof and matchmaking."

"You know my mother," Mohinder said, sliding hands down Matt's back. "In this instance, she is very misguided."

"Misguided isn't the word for it. The word for it is something I'm not allowed to say in front of Molly!"

"I can't believe you're upset--" Mohinder paused, hands freezing on Matt's ass, and studied him. Then he said gently, "You're genuinely upset about this?"

Matt didn't dignify that with a reply. He gave it a glare instead.

"Mira is the girl my mother always expected me to marry. Our families were friends, we'd been close to each other since childhood and as far as my mother is concerned, Mira would be the perfect wife for me."

Matt pushed Mohinder's arms away from him. "That is not comforting."

"Try to understand," Mohinder started, ignoring the clear signal of Matt's crossed arms and settling his hands on Matt's shoulders. "The situation is slightly complicated."

"The situation is simple. Your mom likes Mira. Molly likes Mira. You like Mira enough that after a few hours with her, you've completely forgotten about your mom in the next room. I don't know." Matt shrugged, but it didn't dislodge Mohinder's hands. "Maybe some people would be flattered that spending time with your ex gets you in the mood. But I'm not one of them."

Mohinder boggled at him. Then he blinked a couple times and sat down on the bed. Reaching out a hand, he pulled Matt down beside him.

"What?" Matt demanded.

"There's no reason for you to be jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Matt bit back. Then he saw Mohinder's patient, raised eyebrow. "Well, fine. Maybe there's a little jealousy here. Just a little."

A warm arm wrapped around Matt, tugging him against Mohinder's side. "You truly have no reason to be jealous."

"Why don't you tell me again how long you've known Mira and how she's your ideal wife." Closing his eyes, Matt sighed and let the anger go. He didn't really want to fight; he just wanted a little bit of reassurance. Surely that wasn't too much to ask.

"I never said she was _my_ ideal. Perhaps," Mohinder said, starting to rub his hand up and down Matt's back, slow and comforting, "I should have told you more about me and Mira."

"Yeah?"

"We were very close growing up and shared many of the same interests. We went to university together, studied the same classes. Prepared for the same exams. If I was going to a party, it made perfect sense that she would be the person I took with me."

Mohinder sighed softly. "If I'm being honest, we started dating without me really noticing. It fell into place and suddenly we were a couple. We had so much in common. Our families spent a great deal of time together, we shared goals and wanted similar things from our future. It made sense."

Matt had almost forgotten this tone of voice. When he'd first met Mohinder, he'd been amazed the man could be so enthusiastic about research, so doting when it came to Molly, and yet spoke about himself in cold, detached terms. He was the disconnected scientist, objective, taking no personal pride in his achievements and only gently mocking his failures. Matt hasn't missed hearing him like this.

"Spending time around Mira," Mohinder said softly, "it reminds me of how I felt then. How young I was, full of potential and insecurities. So invested in my studies and career, because I was ambitious. So worried about my father's opinion, because family is important. And because I was a good young man, so sensible, so mature, I wasn't distracted by lust or possessiveness."

Matt listened carefully. He was a cop; he could hear the confession coming.

"I had so many reasons and rationales for why other things were always more important than Mira. We made perfect sense but we never would have worked, simply because I never loved her enough. Certainly not as much as she deserved."

"You were young," Matt offered quietly. "You were young and you thought you were in love. There are worse crimes."

"I was young and I never questioned further. I assumed." For Mohinder, taking assumptions at face value _was_ a crime. "I assumed that it since it was logical it must be right. I assumed any lack of feeling was a failure on my part, that perhaps I was incapable of loving anyone like that."

Matt swallowed and wished he knew what to say. Confessions like that -- raw acknowledgements of insecurities -- they hurt. Hurt to say, hurt to admit. But Matt didn't know how to make it better.

"Seeing her," Mohinder paused, took a breath, "has made me think about possibilities, about the future I could have had. Married. Still in India. A successful academic or a well-paid researcher. Surrounded by people I have known since childhood, perhaps with children of my own. Telling myself that love and passion only belong in stories, not in real life. That no-one actually feels like that. In that life, I would be comfortable and content, but not happy."

Matt might not have the words, but sometimes actions were enough. With a hand on Mohinder's cheek, he tilted Mohinder's face towards him and leaned forward, brushing his lips against Mohinder's. He had to trust that Mohinder would read the right things into one little kiss.

"We make no sense," Mohinder said, resting his forehead against Matt's. "Absolutely no sense. We have very little in common and there's no logical reason why this should work, yet I'm happy here. Here with you and Molly. It's not always easy, but it feels right."

They were quiet for a moment. Sitting close, shoulders touching, and the only sounds Matt could hear were the distance sound of traffic and televisions in other apartments. And the growing noise of snoring.

The background noises belonged in this city, in this moment, but the snoring seemed out of place. It didn't belong in their apartment, Matt thought to himself with a smile, but it wouldn't be in their apartment for too much longer.

Mohinder leaned his head sideways, dropping it to Matt's shoulder. Matt wrapped an arm around him in return, and Mohinder sighed contentedly. "You were right. I like Mira. In fact, I'm terribly fond of her but…"

Matt grinned. "But there's nothing for me to be jealous about?"

"Nothing at all."

***

Nothing to be jealous about, Matt reminded himself as Molly cheerfully babbled about plans for the four of them (Mira, Molly, Mohinder and his mom) to go shopping on Saturday. Matt was working, so of course he couldn't come. And he probably wouldn't want to even if he could. But that wasn't the point.

The point was that he hadn't been asked to spend a day doing something he desperately didn't want to do. It was the principle of the thing.

He wasn't jealous of Mira specifically. It was just... annoying to have Molly and Mohinder wandering around the place, looking for backpack and wallet and keys, and calling goodbyes over their shoulders as he left for his shift.

***

There was a chance -- a very slim chance, but still -- that his bad mood had followed him to the station. Matt realised this as he overheard, "God, poor Parkman."

He stopped, looking down at the file in his hands, trying to understand how he'd heard that. He'd become pretty good at not mentally eavesdropping at work, except for when dealing with suspects or witnesses, of course. He usually didn't have to hear every officer's pointless thought. Maybe he was slipping...

Then he heard with normal hearing, not the mind-reading kind: "Yeah, I know. I feel sorry for the guy."

Matt looked over at the open door of the break room, and shook his head. Someone should tell Matheison (it was definitely Matheison's voice) to close the door if he was going to gossip. Rolling his eyes, Matt carefully walked closer.

Peaking around the door, he saw Matheison, Lamb and Bendell helping themselves to coffee.

"Mother-in-law," Bendell said, nodding meaningfully.

Lamb helped himself to three spoons of sugar. "Driving him insane by the looks of it."

"Have you seen his other half?" Matheison asked, and Bendell nodded. Lamb shook his head and was told, "Indian, brainy, scarily good-looking."

Lamb snorted. "Scarily?"

"Wait till you see him. He is way out of Parkman's league. I'm just saying."

"Clearly, Parkman has hidden depths."

"Or hidden _talents_ ," Bendell replied with a ridiculous leer and they laughed.

Matt shook his head and shoved a hand over his mouth to stay quiet. He was still silently chortling when Matheison said, "But, still, what sort of mother-in-law do you get from that?"

"If she's anything like my mother-in-law," Lamb groaned, "he'll be wearing a turban to work by Friday."

"Wrong religion," Matt said, choosing that moment to casually walk in and help himself to coffee. "Also, you're cops. How can your lives be so boring you have to stand around and discuss mine?"

Bendell and Lamb shared a glance. "Paperwork," they chorused.

***

"You're in a good mood," Mohinder said as Matt came home. He sounded a little surprised but he was also smiling.

The room behind Mohinder was empty, Matt noticed as he locked the apartment door. "My co-workers think I'm a stud." When he turned around, Mohinder had one brow raised.

"I'm not sure I understand."

"The common consensus is that you're with me because I'm a stud in bed," Matt explained, expecting Mohinder to laugh.

Instead, Mohinder stepped closer, sliding his hands around Matt's hips. "So the truth is out, hmmm?" Then he caught Matt in a kiss, lips warm and parted. It was slow and welcoming, and the type of hello kiss Matt had been missing during the last two weeks.

"Well, they're detectives," Matt said softly when Mohinder pulled back an inch. "They were bound to figure it out sooner or later."

Mohinder chuckled and kissed him again. A step backwards and Matt was leaning against the coat closet, wrapping an arm around Mohinder's waist to pull him closer.

Then someone knocked the door beside them.

Mohinder stepped away. "That would be Molly."

"And your mother," Matt mouthed, but it was hard to be suitably annoyed with the taste of Mohinder's sweet tea still in his mouth.

***

On Sunday, Mohinder suggested the movies. Technically, he suggested going to see a documentary on the Dandy Walker Syndrome as it looked "incredibly interesting" but that idea was quickly vetoed.

"You can't take a little girl to the movies to watch a documentary." Matt was firm. "It's cruel and unusual punishment."

"It's educational," Mohinder replied from the couch.

"It's cruel and unusual education, then," Matt said and the corner of Mohinder's mouth twitched, meaning Matt had already won. He pointed over at Molly sitting at the table. She'd commandeered the iPod and was listening to headphones as she drew with coloured pencils. "You've seen the way she sits up every time the ad for that new Pixar thing comes on. Suggest that and she'll love you forever."

"Are you suggesting I need bribes to secure her affection?"

"I wouldn't use those terms." Matt grinned, leaning over the back of the couch to see the newspaper spread across Mohinder's lap. Recognising the advertising logo, he tapped at the page. "That one," he said, turning his head to see Mohinder's answering smile up close.

Mohinder gave a long-suffering sigh and folded like a house of cards. "Very well."

"Perhaps," Mohinder's mom said from the kitchen, and Matt stood up slowly, casually, like he hadn't been caught this close to necking her son, "Detective Parkman and I could take Molly to the movies today?"

"Sure," Matt said warily. It could be a peace offering. It could be a show of good faith. Personally, Matt suspected this was when the camera spanned across calm seas and the Jaws theme music started to play.

Mohinder looked decidedly more pleased. "I'm certain Molly would enjoy it."

"Mira mentioned that documentary yesterday. If you called her, I'm sure she would love to see it with you." Mohinder's mom smiled sweetly, putting the kettle on to boil and then looked directly at Matt. "They have always had such similar tastes in entertainment."

Matt grit his teeth and looked down for support but Mohinder was suddenly fascinated by screening times. "It is a very interesting documentary, and I would like to see it."

With Mohinder's mom standing right there, Matt couldn't reply, 'With your very interesting ex-fiancée?' so he said, "Fine. But I'm buying Molly as much popcorn as she can eat."

***

Once the cinema went dark, Matt could ignore the woman sitting beside Molly and pretend it was just him and her, sharing a ridiculously huge bucket of popcorn while animated robots explored the galaxy. One of the best things about being a parent was having an automatic excuse to get excited about a kids' movie.

When the explosion happened onscreen, he was the one who gasped. Molly leaned closer, wrapped her tiny arm around his, and whispered, "In case you get scared."

"Thanks, Molly." He pressed a quick kiss to her head, watching the screen out of the corner of his eye.

When the ship's power began to fail, she squeezed his hand tightly. He rested his other hand on top of hers, and watched avidly as the energy percentages dropped lower.

***

The documentary was long as well as boring. Okay, Matt was assuming the last part, but it was a _documentary_. The boring bit went without saying.

The documentary took long enough that he was left alone with Mohinder's mom as she cooked. Molly -- the little traitor -- had disappeared into her room with the phone talking to Micah about robots. So Matt was left drying dishes as Mohinder's mom started to slice and dice.

She held the knife firmly, showing the wrinkles on her hand. Matt figured it was petty to take pleasure in the thought that her age showed somewhere. Petty, but not completely undeserved.

The real problem with being alone with her was the silence. Matt had never done well with silence. He was a talker: liked to chat, liked to banter and since moving in with Mohinder and Molly, there hadn't been a lot of silence in his life. He wasn't used to it.

So he did something really stupid. He tried to talk to her.

"You know," he said, putting away a plate, "Mohinder would have been happy to come with us today."

"I'm sure he had a better time with Mira," she said. It could have been an innocent comment.

And Matt could be the Tooth Fairy. (Well, he had been the one to sneak into Molly's room when she lost a tooth, but that didn't count.) "He would have had a good time with us. He usually does."

She watched him, face impassive, and then let out a small sigh. "Detective Parkman, I understand that you have a vested interest in this situation but I would ask you to try to support Mohinder's happiness."

"You think pushing him towards Mira at every opportunity will make him happy?" Matt scoffed.

"They were engaged," she said, as if that meant everything, "and they share a great many things."

"Then why aren't they together right now?"

"My son needed some time to recuperate from his father's death." There was something sad in her eyes and for a moment, Matt felt bad about arguing. Then she continued, "Now it's time for him to come home and settle down. Mira would be perfect for him."

"He is home," Matt bit back, aware his temper was rising.

"Home is where he belongs, where he has family, where he is accepted."

"As I said," Matt replied sharply, "he _is_ home."

Her mouth pulled into the rough approximation of a smile. "He will never be accepted here. He will always be a foreigner, surrounded by people who simply do not understand."

Matt frowned, wishing he had something to say to that.

Her expression softened, the hard glint fading from her dark eyes. "I do understand your position, Detective Parkman. My son has always had certain… appetites." She shot a meaningful look at their bedroom door.

"Hey," Matt spluttered, not sure what to say but she talked through him.

"As a parent, you must understand: what a child wants is not always what is best for them. Molly may love sweets, but you could not in good conscience allow her to live on a diet of them."

"I'm not going to rot his teeth!" Matt said, which sounded like the dumbest reply possible.

"Of course not." She actually stepped forward and patted his forearm. "But the fact remains that Mira is better for Mohinder. They come from the same culture, from similar families."

"Like that means anything."

"It means they have a similar past and can share a prosperous future together. If my son stays here, what will his future be? Will it be planned around a child that is not his, around the conveniences of babysitting while you arrest criminals?" The way she said it almost made Matt sound like he was no better than the crooks he arrested. "What is it that life in New York could offer him?"

"He has a family." Matt ignored the churning in his stomach. "He has a home."

"With Mira, my son could raise his own family in a country that understands what family means. They have similar goals, similar priorities, even similar levels of education." She paused, looking at him closely. "Have you even been to college, Detective Parkman?"

Matt blinked. It wasn't something Mohinder had ever asked him. He'd assumed it wasn't that important. "No."

Thankfully, he was saved: the door opened with Mohinder and Mira laughing as they stepped inside.

Whatever he was feeling, it clearly showed on his face because Mohinder, smile barely faltering, asked, "If you would excuse us?" and nodded his head towards the bedroom. "I need to talk to Matt."

Matt followed, too shocked to do anything else.

The bedroom door closed and the first thing Mohinder did was kiss him softly. Warm mouth on Matt's, tender and reassuring; arms solid around him, sure enough to make any doubts Matt had disappear.

Then Mohinder whispered, right in his ear, "There is no reason for you to be jealous."

"Sure," Matt said, dropping his head to Mohinder's shoulder and just holding on for a moment. "But you should keep reminding me anyway."

***

Lamb was twenty-eight, looked about nineteen and tended to work a bit harder to compensate. He came from Boston Irish stock -- you could see it in the sandy-red hair -- and had moved to New York for his girlfriend. Generally, Matt liked him well enough.

But 'generally' didn't apply when he was standing over Matt's desk with six inches of files in his arms. Matt was ignoring him -- he had the phone to his ear and an endless repeat of eighties music playing -- but he kept standing there, far too patiently.

Sighing, Matt gave up the pretence. "I'm on hold."

"I was hoping you'd be able to give me a hand."

"To look through those?" Matt eyed the stack of files warily. "I'd rather stay on hold."

"You heard about the robbery on Tenth?" Lamb asked and Matt nodded. He'd heard the basics: white female, thirty-three years old, taken the day off sick. Someone had picked her lock, taken her purse, jewellery and anything else they could carry, and left her sprawled face-down on bed with two messy shots through her torso. She'd bled out. "I've got the case. I thought check the other burglaries in the area, see if there's any connection."

"Unsolved burglaries, right?"

Lamb nodded. "Yeah."

"So check the fingerprints." Matt moved the receiver to his other ear before _'Wake Me Up (Before You Go-Go)'_ drove him insane. "Other than that, how are you going to tell there's a link?"

"That was my reasoning, too. But, you know." He looked over at Detective Fuller's office, and Matt understood completely. "Anyway, who's got you on hold so long?"

"Airline."

Lamb grinned, and looked like a kid who'd just managed to buy his first beer. "Making sure the in-laws' flight is still leaving?"

Matt groaned. "I swear, the next week is going to be hell."

"She really that bad?"

"Every time I turn my back, she's setting him up with his ex-fiancée. Every time."

Lamb rested his stack of files on the desk. "I ever tell you about the first Christmas after I married Trish?" he asked, leaning on the edge of Matt's desk and obscuring the post-it note filled with tiny stick figures heavily scribbled out.

"No."

"We go over to her parents place for Christmas Eve and they also invite her high school boyfriend. He's now an investment banker. He drives a BMW. He makes way more than a basic cop's salary. He goes to the theatre. You get the idea?"

Matt grinned, despite himself. "It's sounding very familiar."

"End of the day, though? She spends half the trip home saying what a pretentious bore he is and she's so glad she dumped him in senior year. If the ex was so great," Lamb said, standing up, "they wouldn't have broken up in the first place. They're with us for a reason."

Nodding, Matt hung up the phone. "I'd say it was the uniform, but these days..."

"It's the suits." Lamb grinned, and then divided the tower of files into two. "Now do you feel like wasting a couple hours looking through crime scene reports for very little useful information?"

"Sure," Matt said, but then Detective Fuller's loud voice rang out across the room.

"Hey, Lamb! There's been another robbery-shooting. Get down there and check it out."

Matt stared at the files, then looked up at Lamb. "You want company?"

"Sure," Lamb said, then raised his voice. "Me and Parkman are heading over now!"

***

The door was forced this time. The apartment was a mess with plugs left hanging -- from a DVD player, Matt guessed -- and drawers still open.

There was also another body: Hispanic male, twenty-four years old from the drivers licence, shot twice in the kitchen with the phone cord curled next to him, yanked out of the wall. Photos were being taken, surfaces dusted for prints so Matt wandered out to the hallway. Uniformed officers were interviewing the neighbours, asking about unusual sounds, suspicious behaviour.

Using his powers, Matt sent a gentle encouragement -- _Tell us the truth_ \-- and waited. After a moment, the woman at the end of the hall said, "There was a guy there when I came home. He'd dropped his keys, I think. I wasn't paying that much attention."

"Can you tell us what he looked like?"

"I don't know." She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "He seemed ordinary. Maybe thirty, um, brown hair, maybe. I don't know."

She looked uncertain, and Matt didn't need to read the officers mind to know she's already been dismissed as a useless witness. So Matt read her mind, heard the jumble of _'I didn't look, I should have looked, he just seemed ordinary, he seemed familiar, I was too busy.'_

Matt walked over, smiling. A gentle smile was almost as good as telepathy for encouraging witnesses. "Is it possible you'd seen him before?"

"Maybe," she said.

"Do you think he lives in the area?"

She shook her head, grimacing. "I don't think so. But… I couldn't say. I just… didn't look that close."

***

It wasn't much but it was enough to keep them busy, enough to keep Matt a couple hours late.

When he let himself in the door, the apartment was quiet but still lit. Mohinder's mom was sitting on the sofa-bed, lamp on, reading a book. She nodded at him, which Matt completely ignored and headed straight for the bedroom.

Mohinder was already in bed, lights off, so he closed the door, shed the suit and crawled under the covers. Mohinder gave a sleepy, unintelligible mutter and shifted closer to him, curling a loose hand around Matt's bicep. Matt pressed a kiss against his forehead and then relaxed on the mattress, waiting for sleep.

He thought about how strong the locks on their front door were.

Then he remembered who was sleeping in their living room. The thought of some burglar pulling a gun on Mohinder's mom -- and getting a lecture on bad decisions they'd made in life, no doubt -- almost made him laugh.

***

In some ways, the case was a god-send.

The case gave Matt a genuine reason to hang back at the station after his shift, reason that wouldn't draw Mohinder's attention. It wouldn't make Mohinder carefully ask, "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" (This was a good thing since Matt wasn't sure how to say, "As far as your mom's concerned, liking cock is just another trait you share with Mira," without saying it exactly like that.)

Chasing up leads kept him occupied. It stopped him calling up the airline every day, just to make sure the flight was definitely leaving. He'd prefer it left on time, but as long as it got that woman out of his home, he didn't care if there was a delay.

Going through evidence found at the crime scene kept him too busy to grumble about the way Mohinder's mom had cornered him that morning. He'd been standing in the kitchen, gulping down his coffee, when she said sweetly, "Thank you for considering what we discussed," and smiled _approvingly_ as if Matt working late had something to do with her bizarre match-matching. As if one insulting conversation had convinced Matt that the right thing to do was step down and stay out of sight so his incredibly hot boyfriend could hook up with an ex.

Again, there was no way Matt could argue against her interpretation of events, not without yelling that his real reason was to avoid Mohinder's mom in all of her evil, small-minded glory.

Matt had good reasons to appreciate the case.

Then they got the call about the third body.

***

The phone rang. Matt looked up from the pages spread across his desk -- receipts and diaries, his own scribbled notes on a pad of paper -- and glared at it. If there had been anyone else in the room, he would've let it ring, let someone else get it.

With an annoyed sigh, he picked it up. "Parkman."

"I wanted to make sure you're planning to come home tonight," Mohinder said warmly.

"Yeah, in a minute," Matt said, checking his watch. Then he checked it again. It was past nine. "I hadn't realised the time."

"I thought as much." There was the sound of a door closing behind Mohinder. "But there was still a chance my mother's snoring may have made sleeping under your desk look attractive."

"But that would mean tidying the boxes of crap living under my desk," Matt said, and heard Mohinder snort. "I'm not staying here all night. I'm just trying to figure this out."

"Mmmm?"

"There's a connection. There's got to be, but I can't see it." Matt rubbed a hand across his jaw, feeling stubble. "These people must have more in common than just living in the same block."

"People?" Mohinder asked. "I thought there were only two victims."

Matt knew he shouldn't talk about cases. It wasn't professional -- victim's right to privacy and all -- and it wasn't a smart idea to make loved ones worry too much. But Mohinder always sounded interested and asked careful questions that Matt found himself answering before he thought about it. "The third came in today. Same damn block."

"Oh," Mohinder said quietly. There was a pause. "Your dinner will be waiting in the microwave. Try not to work too late."

This was where Matt should have said, 'Don't wait up,' but there wasn't any point. No matter what he said, Mohinder would still be awake when he got home, lying in bed and reading some apparently fascinating article. He wouldn't nag about the hours Matt kept, wouldn't passive-aggressively accuse him of not caring (with Janice, it was always some variation of not caring enough, not caring in the right way). He'd just be there, and read until Matt got into bed, sometimes until Matt fell asleep.

If he stayed, he could spend the next three hours sifting through pages, trying to find a connection that only his gut said was there. Mohinder wouldn't punish him for it. But if he left now… He could crawl into bed, lie on his side and have Mohinder curl an arm around Matt as he read. And the rest of this would still be waiting for him in the morning.

So Matt tidied the piles of papers on his desk and said, "I'll be home in half an hour."

***

The moment of insight -- the moment of brilliance when it all came together and they made connection -- didn't happen to Matt. It happened to Lamb. Matt got his call while walking Molly to school.

"Groceries."

"Lamb?" Matt asked, pulling a face at Molly, who shrugged back at him.

"It's groceries," Lamb said. "They all got groceries delivered by the same guy. Same guy who has now been missing from work for the last three days and liked to gamble. Owes a lot of money to wrong type of people."

Matt had seen the places that had been robbed. They were nice but there wasn't a fortune there. If this guy needed to pay serious debts there was more trouble coming.

"Shit." Matt looked down, remembering Molly. One problem at a time. "Do we have a list of his regular deliveries?"

"Working on it now," Lamb replied. "We've got uniform out checking the addresses."

"Anything--" Matt stopped himself; he didn't want to ask about bodies while a ten year old girl frowned at him for swearing.

"Nothing worth mentioning," Lamb said, "but they're all in the same area. I'll show you when you get in."

"Okay. Later," Matt said and hung up the phone.

Still frowning at him, Molly waited until he put the phone back in his jacket pocket. "I could tell Mohinder you said a swear word."

Matt couldn't believe a school kid was threatening to tell on him. "I was surprised."

"I'm not allowed to use those words. And Mohinder doesn't use those words," Molly said. She was serious, as serious about the no-swearing rule as Mohinder himself was.

Most of the time, Matt was pretty good with the no-swearing rule. Most of the time. The last thing he wanted right now was an overheard -- not said to him but definitely directed at him -- lecture from Mohinder's mom about obscenities and impressionable childhood minds. "I'm sorry, Molly. I'll try not to next time."

Matt smiled at her, and she watched him carefully for a moment, clearly weighing up her options.

"Okay." Satisfied, she nodded and went back to their previous conversation. "Micah says the problem with creating a thinking robot..."

***

Later, when talking to Detective Fuller, Matt would explain the incident clearly. He'd mention that they followed procedures: wore vests, announced their presence, told the suspect to drop his weapon. He'd state that five shots were heard: two missed, three hit an officer in the chest. (Due to the vest, only minor injuries were sustained.)

He'd explain that Lamb shot in retaliation and hit the suspect's right shoulder, causing him to drop the gun. Then the suspect was arrested and given medical treatment.

But that clarity came later. At the time, it wasn't simple. It was the sound of shots, too loud in the small apartment. It was being thrown back against the floor, winded and shocked as he realised he'd been hit. He'd been _shot_.

In that moment, he thought of Sylar, remembered Kirby Plaza. He worried if Molly was safe. If he was going to die.

Then he heard Lamb's shout, his answering fire. There was a yelp of pain, then the muffled thud of a gun hitting carpet.

"You okay?" Lamb called out over his shoulder, kicking the dropped gun away and keeping his weapon aimed at the suspect.

Matt gulped a breath. "Yeah."

"Lucky you were wearing the vest."

Full of too much adrenaline and slowly rising to his feet, Matt laughed. "Last time I bitch about wearing these things."

***

Matt's keys were jangling. He looked down at his right hand. It was shaking. Not much, barely a tremor.

After effects of adrenaline. Nothing more.

Matt clenched his hand, released. Clenched it again. It didn't help, so he switched his keys to his left hand and unlocked his front door.

The sight that greeted him... didn't, actually. Nobody looked up, nobody seemed to even notice he was home. Molly had Mohinder's laptop open on the couch and was absorbed in clicking through the Children's Encarta. Mohinder was sitting at the table -- his mom on one side, Mira on the other -- and the three of them were laughing, babbling in foreign sounds, hands gesturing as Mira and Mohinder interrupted each other.

Matt closed the door quietly and pocketed his keys, then stood still for a moment, watching.

Mohinder was breathless with laughter, flapping his hand at Mira and trying to talk through her with gasped words. He looked so young. It was so easy to imagine him as a college student talking to Mira after class, sharing a private joke.

He could imagine them as the perfect couple, inviting parents around and sharing plans for having children and living an ideal life. Never fighting, never being so angry at the other person you just want to yell in their face, never being terrified that one of you wouldn't come home alive that night.

Matt could have butted into the conversation and stopped the retelling of whatever hilarious story they were sharing, but there wasn't any point. It wasn't like he was going to be great company tonight. So he walked quietly past, heading straight for the bedroom.

Mohinder called out just before Matt made it to the door. "Matthew, there are leftovers in the fridge, if--"

"Ate at the station," Matt called back, not trusting himself to turn around, not trusting the smile to stay on his face. "Long day. Just want a shower and an early night."

He got the bedroom door shut behind him. For a moment, he closed his eyes. He saw the gun from today and saw Sylar at Kirby Plaza. He took a shuddering breath and then forced himself to move towards the bathroom.

***

"I know you said you ate," Mohinder's voice came through the bathroom door, "but did that meal include anything that didn't start life in a vending machine?"

Matt kept staring at the mirror. Belatedly, he replied, "I bought the packet of Doritos at a convenience store so technically, that's a yes."

"Then I'll heat up--" The door beside Matt started to open. He jerked sideways trying to stop it, but was too late. Mohinder's face went from confused to concerned in less than a second. "What happened?"

"It's nothing." Matt pulled his shirt closed and tried to smile. It didn't stop Mohinder stepping inside and locking the door behind him. "Also, the two of us locked alone in a bathroom this small is going to look suspicious."

"What happened?" Mohinder repeated, looking anything but amused. He batted Matt's hands away and carefully pushed Matt's shirt open.

"Really, it's no big--"

"Matthew Ezekiel Parkman." Mohinder had never even talked to his mom, so it was a little amazing that he managed to perfectly mimic her reaction when he got suspended for a day after throwing a water balloon at his history teacher. Mohinder even got the slightly hurt, disappointed expression right. "This is not the time to lie to me. Now tell me what happened."

"Look," Matt started again, but the expression on Mohinder's face made him pause. There was annoyance, disappointment, and very real fear beneath it. "I'm okay. An arrest didn't go as planned, but I'm okay."

Mohinder glanced down at his chest doubtfully. "You look like someone attacked you with a baseball bat."

Matt swallowed. "Kevlar vest."

"A Kevlar vest attacked you with a baseball bat?"

"No, I--" His throat closed over the words 'got shot'. Matt tried again. "I was wearing the Kevlar vest. The guy was twitchy and he had a gun."

Mohinder nodded slowly. "And now?"

"And now he's getting a shoulder wound treated in a secure ward and looking forward to a long, all expenses paid holiday courtesy of our justice system."

Carefully, Mohinder laid a cool hand across Matt's chest, right over his heart. The heel of his hand covered half of a dark-red bruise, already speckled with indigo. Mohinder couldn't stop staring at it. "But you're okay?"

Matt wanted to say, 'No.' He wanted to say, 'A guy shot me in the chest and the last time that happened, there were hours of surgery and later being told it was touch and go.' He wanted to say, 'I was terrified and it hurt and this is me freaking out, so can you ignore your mom and your ex and just stay here?' But then he'd have to watch Mohinder make that regretful little grimace, watch him apologise or try to make up an excuse his mother would believe. So instead, he said, "No holes that weren't there this morning."

"Matthew," Mohinder said, voice soft and devastating.

"I'm fine. I'm just not in the mood to deal with your mom." Matt reached behind Mohinder and unlocked the bathroom door. Using a hand on Mohinder's shoulder and one low on his back, Matt gently pushed him out. "Now go back out there before she starts suggesting I need help to unscrew the toothpaste cap."

Turning, Mohinder gave him one last long look, clearly weighing something in his mind. Then he stepped out.

Matt closed the door and considered himself lucky that Mohinder hadn't noticed the tremors in his right hand.

***

Showered? Check.

Appropriately dressed? Check.

Lying in bed? Check.

Sleeping?

...Not so much.

Matt stared at the ceiling and fought the urge to run through the litany once again. Obsessing about the fact that he wasn't sleeping wasn't going to make him fall asleep any faster. Still, the showered-dressed-bed thought kept running through his mind.

It was better than other things he could be thinking about. For instance, how close he'd come to having another three bullets lodged in his chest.

Drawing in an unsteady breath, Matt went back to the litany -- showered, dressed, in bed -- and forced his fists to unclench. He was almost happy to hear the bedroom door open, just for the distraction. "Hey, Molly."

Molly stood in the doorway for a moment, pushing a strand of honey-brown hair behind her ear. "Mohinder said you don't want any dinner."

"I'm not hungry, honey," he said gently. She hovered there, watching him quietly, so he waved her closer.

"Are you sure?" she asked, sitting beside him on the bed and folding her legs beneath her. "It's really good. I helped make it."

"I'm sure it is." It was an effort to smile, but he managed it. "But I already ate."

Molly wriggled, settling into the bed. "We learned about plants today."

"Really?" Matt's had months to get used to sudden shifts in conversation -- both from Molly and Mohinder -- but sometimes, it still caught him off guard. Luckily, an interested sounding 'Really?' usually worked.

It worked this time too, because Molly nodded happily and started explaining.

"Yeah, it was really cool. We got to learn about why plants are green and how they get nutrients," she says that word carefully, clearly proud of her new knowledge, "and the teacher even brought one in to show us."

Matt frowned, exaggerating the gesture. "Doesn't sound very interesting."

Molly's eyes went wide. "He had a carnivorous plant!"

Continuing to hold the confused frown on his face, Matt asked, "Like a dinosaur?" He got the expected reaction: Molly shook her head and then started to explain with great enthusiasm.

"No, carnivorous means meat-eating. These are plants that actually eat insects! They lure them with really yummy-smelling nectar and then trap them. And they have this acid inside that drowns them and eats away the flesh!"

Blinking, Matt wondered if all children were quite this fascinated with death and destruction. On the one hand, he didn't want to think it was just Molly; on the other, it was more disturbing if all children thought that way. "That's kind of..."

"Cool?" Molly suggested, obviously loving the viciousness of the natural world.

"I was going to say creepy," Matt said, sitting up a bit higher, and Molly rolled her eyes. "Which one did you get to see?"

"A Venus Flytrap. It's really cool, it actually snaps--" Molly broke off, mid-sentence and then held her hands up, wrists together, hands forming a V. "It has these traps. They look like flowers, all pink and pretty, but they have sharp spines at the top like teeth." Molly wriggled her fingers to draw Matt's attention, and bent them at the first knuckle so her fingertips were facing each other.

Matt nodded, rather charmed by her seriousness. "Okay."

"Then, a bug comes along, smells the nectar, and--" She frowned for a moment, then looked up. "You're going to have to be the bug, Matt."

"I'm an insect now?"

"Just for the purpose of this demonstration." It was a phrase she'd definitely picked up from Mohinder. While it sounded stuffy and overly formal in Mohinder's sharp tones, it was adorable coming out of Molly's mouth.

"Okay, what do I have to do?"

"You're the bug, so you have to fly in and land on my palm," Molly said, not moving her hands from the trap. Matt pointed his finger and moved it through the air, but couldn't resist making buzzing noises.

"You're supposed to land," Molly chided.

"I'm a curious bug. I enjoy flying, exploring the big, wide world."

"Matt."

"Okay, fine," Matt said, bringing his finger down in the middle of her small palm, "I've landed."

"Now, while you're eating, the trap starts to close very slowly. So slowly you don't even notice." With great concentration, Molly closed her hands slowly, closing them around Matt's finger.

"And I starve to death?"

"Mmm-hm." Molly grinned brightly. "And eventually you fall into the acid, and I eat you."

"Unless," Matt said, wriggling his finger and then pulling it free of Molly's grip, "I'm a super-powered fly and escape."

Molly looked at him like a third-grade teacher trapped in a child's body. "That's just silly."

"What's silly?"

Matt looked up to see Mohinder close the bedroom door behind him. "Super-powered bugs," Matt said as Mohinder sat on the bed beside him, long legs stretched above the covers. "What happened to your mother?"

"Mira had a spare ticket to the Met."

"Mira's a sports fan?"

"The Metropolitan Opera House," Mohinder explained with the hint of a smile. "I wasn't in the mood, so I suggested she take my mother instead."

"Oh," Matt said, feeling uncertain for no good reason. He leaned back, lying down again, trying to ignore the strange flutter of anxiety trapped behind his sternum. He rolled over to his side, back to Mohinder, and reached an arm out towards Molly, resting a hand loosely against her back.

It wasn't that he didn't want Mohinder here, it was just that... He didn't even know. He knew that he didn't want to talk about it -- he didn't even want to think about it, not for a few hours at least -- and if Mohinder had got rid of his mom for the night, then he'd probably have to talk about it and…

His thoughts were interrupted by the weight of Mohinder's arm curling around his chest, resting carelessly on the cover. A weight across his chest should make it harder to breathe, not easier.

From behind him, Mohinder said, "So why are super-powered bugs ridiculous?"

"Molly said they were silly," Matt said, wrapping his hand around the back of Mohinder's and squeezing gently. Mohinder squeezed back. "Because I said that a super-powered bug could escape a Venus Flytrap."

"It couldn't because carnivorous plants are way cooler than bugs," Molly replied, arms crossed defiantly. "Besides, it's not likely that a bug's going to develop super-powers."

"I don't see why not," Mohinder replied thoughtfully. "The insect world is frequently the first to adapt to external pressures."

"A carnivorous plant is a natural predator."

"So since it's not a new pressure, there shouldn't be a new response," Mohinder said slowly, sounding pleased with the conversation.

"Exactly."

Matt closed his eyes, listening to the conversation. There was something so comforting about the familiar rhythms of them talking, of Mohinder trying to coach Molly through the basics of evolutionary theories.

"But what if there was another pressure in the environment?" he heard Mohinder ask.

"Like what?"

"Like a new insect spray that was rapidly reducing the population of those bugs."

"That would be a new pressure," Molly said, and she sounded further away, slightly harder to hear, "and the bugs might respond to that?"

"Yes," Mohinder said, arm around Matt but voice muted and distant, "due to the new pressure of their environment, the next evolutionary step might be to increase adrenal responses in times of stress, thereby giving them extra strength when their lives were threatened."

Matt thought, 'I shouldn't fall asleep'. Then he did.

***

When he woke up, the bedside lamp was on. Mohinder was sitting up, knees tenting the covers, reading a journal.

Matt yawned, still half-asleep but feeling a hundred times better. "You're still awake?"

"I wanted to read this." It was Mohinder-speak for 'I was worried about you'.

Matt moved closer to him, reached under the covers to rest a hand on Mohinder's thigh. "You should get some sleep."

Mohinder folded the journal closed, allowing, "It is rather late." He laid it on the bedside table and then reached for the lamp.

"And Mohinder?" Matt asked, and Mohinder paused, turning back to look at him, "I'll be okay."

Mohinder nodded woodenly.

"I've got time off. A whole week, actually. I'll probably have to see the department therapist and I might be a bit on edge for a while, but I'll be okay. Eventually."

Mohinder turned off the light, then shimmied down the bed, under the blankets. In the dark, he found Matt's shoulder with his hand, found Matt's cheek with his lips. "I'm sure you will be. But if you were not..."

"The world would be a much darker place?" Matt joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"My world would," Mohinder said seriously, then kissed him, slow and achingly sincere. Matt returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around Mohinder and holding on, even after the kiss was over.

They fell asleep like that, arms around each other, and Matt wasn't sure who was comforting who.

***

Mohinder came out of the bedroom wearing a grey suit and lavender shirt, with a charcoal-striped tie hanging over one arm.

"Leave the tie," Matt suggested. "Looks like you're trying too hard to impress."

Mohinder ducked back into the bedroom and returned, without the tie. He was smooth-shaven and the top button of his shirt was undone, pale cotton framing dark skin. For a moment, Matt let his mind wander. He thought about pressing Mohinder back against the kitchen counter, flipping open the small buttons, one by one, sliding his hands down bare skin and then dropping to his knees...

Matt cleared his throat. "Who are you trying to impress, anyway?"

Mohinder grinned, giving a slight shake of his head. Judging by his amused but slightly interested expression, Matt's thoughts must have been showing. "Mira," then he added, "well, Mira's company. She's taking me for a tour of her lab today."

"You're dressed nicely so you can play with someone else's microscope?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd assume that was a very bad sexual euphemism," Mohinder said mildly, startling a laugh out of Matt. Before Molly -- or, god forbid, Mohinder's mom -- could ask what the joke was, Mohinder thankfully continued. "Mira used the supposed lie of trying to recruit me to get me access."

"Supposed?" Matt asked, opening the cupboard door and reaching for cereal. "Is she trying to recruit you?"

"Not precisely. But if I suggested working for the New York branch..."

"She wouldn't say no?"

"She'd make sure the employment contract was signed by the end of the week." Mohinder smiled, tugging at his cuffs.

There was something in Mohinder's tone that made Matt pause. "Are you interested? In working for her lot?"

Frowning at his cuffs, trying to pull them straight beneath the jacket sleeves, Mohinder said, "Not now."

"Not now you know their dirty secret?" Matt joked.

"No," Mohinder said firmly, rolling his eyes at Matt's melodramatic tone. "Not right now because I have research of my own that I'm pursuing. But they are working on some very interesting ideas, and my priorities may change in the future."

"So you want to make a good impression," Matt said, walking over to the table with a bowl full of cereal and milk. "Just in case."

"Exactly." Mohinder nodded and then seemed to notice that Matt was dressed for work, too. "I thought the department gave you a week off?"

"Want to check a couple reports with Lamb, sign where I'm supposed to sign, that sort of stuff. I've got to go in for an appointment with the department shrink anyway, so I figured I'd get it all done today."

"You have an appointment with a psychiatrist?" Mohinder asked.

Mouth full of Frosty Loops, Matt nodded.

"And you're not, perhaps, a little concerned about it?"

"Nah," Matt replied, shovelling another spoonful of milky, sugary goodness into his mouth.

Mohinder frowned, waving a hand back and forth, unwilling to say anything more. "But..."

Matt swallowed. "For a scientist, I'm amazed at your reluctance here."

Mohinder looked highly offended. "Psychiatry is hardly a _science_."

"He's a trained professional," Matt replied, rolling his eyes. "He's employed to help cops like me deal with this stuff. He's a good guy, if a bit sleepy."

"Sleepy?"

"This is the guy who evaluated me before the NYPD approved the transfer." When Mohinder still looked vaguely interested instead of amused, Matt realised he hadn't shared this story before. "There I am, sitting on his well-padded chair, talking about my suspension, about hitting a fellow officer, about not regretting it because the guy had sat beside my in a squad car for years and then slept with my wife. There he is, sitting back in the chair opposite me, eyes closed, listening so carefully to everything I'm saying."

Mohinder nodded, so Matt continued, "It made me nervous. Made me stop and think about what I was saying, about whether I was sounding like a reasonable guy, the kind of guy you'd trust with a loaded gun. And then the most hilarious thing in the world happened."

A pause, then Mohinder asked, "What?"

"He snored!" Matt couldn't help chuckling. "He actually snored and woke himself up. And he was all, 'Yes, yes, that sounds very encouraging,' and he hadn't been listening to a word of it."

The corner of Mohinder's lips twitched, but he said, "I think I would find that unsettling in a medical professional."

Shrugging, Matt gathered another spoonful of cereal. "Maybe you had to be there," he said, raising the spoon with a grin.

***

Mohinder returned with his shirt sleeves rolled up and talking like he'd had five espressos in the last hour. Mostly, Matt nodded along, chiming in with "Really?", "Oh," "Huh," and "Mmm-hm," when needed. He didn't understand the specifics but the overall gist was the labs were well-stocked, the researchers Mohinder had met were smart and welcoming, and the tour had been an all-around success. "It went well, huh?"

"Yes, it went very well," he said with a smile. Looking up over his steaming cup of tea, Mohinder fell silent for the first time in at least an hour. "Was I boring you?

"I wasn't bored." He hadn't been. Watching Mohinder talk about science was one of Matt's guilty pleasures. He only understood one word in five, but it wasn't like he was paying attention to the research: he was normally too distracted staring at Mohinder's bright smile, the sparkle in his eyes, those long fingers waving nonsense patterns in the air. Mohinder looked so young when he was excited, like an overgrown kid -- an excited third-grader talking about his science project -- and Matt found his happiness contagious, even if he didn't understand the reason behind it. "I'm just wondering what it means," Matt said, peeling a potato.

"They offered me an analyst position. Not full-time, but something I could fit around my own research. I wouldn't be performing the experiments but analysing the results, attempting to find patterns and theorising." That shining, happy smile was back on Mohinder's face. "It would involve extra work -- extra hours, certainly -- but it would be extremely interesting and most of the work could be done from home."

Mohinder wasn't asking for permission, not precisely, but he was edging around it. Matt could hear the unspoken question behind his words. "Sure you won't burn out from thinking too much?"

"I doubt it, but we could try and see if my head explodes," Mohinder said, half-joking. "If it made life too awkward, I could resign. I would still have my current job. It wouldn't be a financial risk."

Placing the potato on the chopping board, Matt started peeling the next one. "So we'll try," he said, giving Mohinder a quick grin, "but if your head explodes, you'll only have yourself to blame."

Mohinder moved to get a knife out of the drawer. As he brushed past Matt, he slid a hand across the small of Matt's back and murmured into his ear, "Duly noted."

"I wouldn't want to be blamed for--" There was a sudden clatter of footsteps and then a door was slammed shut. Molly's bedroom door. Going on instinct, Matt scanned her thoughts and picked up 'They should have told me,' and 'It's not fair!' Molly sounded upset. He turned back to Mohinder, who looked suddenly serious.

"Do you--" Mohinder started.

"Yeah," Matt said, shoving the half-peeled potato into Mohinder's hands, "I'll go talk to her."

Ignoring the look from Mohinder's mom on the couch -- a polite stare that still accused him of being a bad parent -- Matt walked over to Molly's room. He knocked lightly, then let himself in and made sure he closed the door behind him.

Molly was sitting on her bed, legs over the side, socked feet just touching the floor, and holding a pillow in front of her. Not holding so much as squeezing the life out of it, arms wrapped tightly around it, face buried against cotton. "Go away," she said, small and muffled.

Matt did what any good father would do in this situation: he ignored his kid's wishes. He sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her back. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not a baby," she said, lifting her head to glare at him. She looked as if she was about to cry. "You should have told me."

"Told you what, honey?"

The glare got angrier and she blinked fast, holding the tears back. "That Mohinder's leaving."

"What?" Matt demanded, surprised at the random accusation. "Mohinder's not going anywhere."

Molly stared at him doubtfully.

"His next work trip is months away. You know that, Molly."

"Not on a trip. _Leaving_ leaving."

Matt leaned over and tugged the pillow out of her grip. "Trust me, Molly, Mohinder's not leaving. We're not keeping anything from you." Then he pulled her into a sideways hug and stifled the wince when she hugged back and accidentally pressed against one of his bruises.

After a moment of quiet, she sniffled and said, "Maybe Mohinder didn't tell you either."

"He'd tell me, Molly," Matt said confidently. He doesn't add, 'he wouldn't have a choice' because Molly has definite ideas about the ethics of reading someone's mind and Matt can't tell her how he'd know. It'd be the same way Matt found out about his own birthday party. (When he's naked and panting, Mohinder isn't good at keeping secrets.) "I'd know."

"But what if you didn't? What if this time he didn't tell you?"

He thoughts for a moment. "You know how responsible Mohinder is when it comes to bills, right? The way he double checks things and makes sure everything's paid?"

She nodded against his chest but didn't look up. "Yeah?"

"Can you imagine him just skipping town and not worrying about outstanding bills?" Smoothing a hand over her hair, Matt hoped this tactic worked. "We'd have to get the utilities changed to my name, we'd have to sign for a new lease. There'd be a whole bunch of things to do and I'd have to sign half of them. You really think he'd leave without organizing that stuff first?"

She shook her head, because Mohinder was that kind of guy: the kind that worried, the kind that cared. The kind that would never consider disappearing without saying goodbye, let alone do it.

The type of guy that had perfect timing, Matt thought as Mohinder opened the door a foot. Matt caught his eye and nodded, and Mohinder came over.

"Okay, just to clear this up," Matt said clearly as Mohinder knelt in front of them, "Mohinder, do you have super secret plans to leave us?"

"What? No!" Mohinder sounded deeply offended and Matt had a moment of regret, thinking he could have eased into the subject a little. "Why would you think that?"

Molly sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve as she watched Mohinder. "You're not going?"

"Is that why you're upset? Oh, Molly," Mohinder said, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. She ducked her head against his collar. Mohinder met Matt's eyes over her shoulder and said, "Matt and I, we're staying right here with you. If there's one thing you can depend on, it's that we'll be here."

"Pretty much forever," Matt added.

"Forever?" Molly scoffed, sounding better.

"Forever. Trust me, when you're thirty-two and still living in this room, you'll wish it wasn't true, but that's just the way things are. You're stuck with us."

"I'm not going to be living at home when I'm ancient," Molly replied.

Matt boggled at her idea of 'ancient'. It was amazing a child could make him feel so old. From the startled grin Mohinder shot him, he wasn't the only one suddenly feeling like a geriatric.

"Molly," Mohinder said gently, "why did you think I was leaving?"

Molly's reply was a little muffled. "We were watching a documentary on elephants and they had these shots of India, and I asked if that's what it was really like."

She'd been watching TV with Mohinder's mom, Matt realized, putting two and two together. "And what did--" Matt caught himself before he called her an 'interfering old battle-axe', "--she say?"

"That India was just like that. That it was busy and full of colour, and incredible. She said that, that…" Molly lifted her head, frowning like a miserable chipmunk. "She said that I should come and see. She said that she was sure that-- that Mohinder would let me come and visit, after he'd set up his new home."

Matt was waiting for it, had expected it, so he was watching for Mohinder's reaction. He saw the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, saw the moment of cold fury pass across his face before he covered it with a polite smile. "My mother must have been confused. We did discuss returning to India but I meant as a vacation. For the three of us."

"Really?" Molly was resilient. She went from upset to interested in the space of a heartbeat. "When?"

"We don't know yet, Molly. There would be a lot of factors to consider and it would take quite a bit of arranging. But I would like to introduce you to the rest of my family, show you where I was born and where I went to school," Mohinder said, looking over at Matt. Matt nodded -- in a 'we'll talk about this later' way -- and Mohinder continued, "I never planned to leave you. My mother must have been a little confused."

Molly shrugged. "Maybe I misunderstood?"

Mohinder shook his head. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that you get your shoes and your coat."

"Why?" Molly asked, sitting up so quickly she toppled a little and landed against Matt.

"Because we're going out to dinner tonight and you'll need your coat." Mohinder caught Matt's eye and the smile dropped away. "Give me a moment to tell my mother."

"Sure," Matt said. While Mohinder walked out of Molly's room, he stayed and helped locate the shoes hiding under her math book. As Molly sat on the bed and put them on, he sauntered over to her doorway and pushed the door open enough to see into the living room.

Mohinder was standing behind the table, fingers clenched tightly on the back of a chair. From the couch, Mohinder's mom was saying something in Tamil that sounded reasonable but clearly wasn't, and Mohinder's grip was getting tighter. When she paused for breath, he said, "No. This is not acceptable. While you are staying in my home--"

"This is not your home, Mohinder," she said as if reminding a child.

"While you are here, you will not upset my family."

"They are hardly your family," she added calmly. "Your family and your home are back in India, in Madras. You know this. If you would stop being so stubborn, you would see that it is time to return. It is time to stop running from the future."

"We have been nothing but hospitable to you, mother. We have accepted you into our home and while you are here you will not needlessly upset a child." She started to say something but he spoke through her. "My future is here. Matthew and Molly are my family, and wherever they are, that is where my home will be."

"You are being foolish, talking nonsense, Mohinder."

"I do not expect your support or your acceptance, but you must understand that I love them very much. I love Molly dearly," Mohinder took a deep breath -- the momentary silence rang in Matt's ears -- then added, "And Matthew. I love him in a way… I didn't think I was capable of loving another person."

"When this infatuation passes, you will be left--"

"They are my family," Mohinder spat back, tone fierce and unforgiving. "For the rest of this visit, if you wish to stay in my home, you will respect them and you will act civilly. If you cannot do that for the remaining few days, I would suggest you book a hotel."

There was a tug on his sleeve, so Matt looked down. Looking worried, Molly whispered, "Is it okay?"

"Everything's fine." Matt grinned and scooped her into a hug. There was silence in the living room. It was the silence of two very stubborn people glaring at each other. Matt opened the door as loudly as he could and carried Molly in. "Ready to go?"

"Almost." Mohinder's smile was strained, but he looked relieved. Then he turned that strained smile on his mom. "The three of us are going out for dinner. We'll be back later."

***

Mohinder walked out the apartment tense as a block of concrete. It wasn't until the elevator doors closed behind them that he relaxed, sagging against the wall. "I can't believe I just said that to my mother," he said softly while Molly pushed a button for Mrs Ledson.

Matt glanced ahead -- Molly was busy talking to Mrs Ledson, telling her about Venus Flytraps, judging by her gestures -- then leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to the curve of Mohinder's cheekbone. "My hero."

"I don't feel very heroic," Mohinder said, teetering on the edge of freaking out. "I feel nervous and terrified. And slightly nauseous. I can't believe I said that."

"I've lived with your mom for two weeks. I know she's the face of evil and you stood up to her. For us." Matt knew he was wearing a goofy smile but he couldn't bring himself to care how goofy-in-love he looked. "In my books, that definitely makes you a hero."

Mohinder sighed. He still looked stunned and a little horrified. "She may not speak to me."

"Is that a problem?"

"Ever again," Mohinder clarified. "She may not even be there when we return."

"Mohinder?" Matt asked gently. He waited until Mohinder met his gaze before continuing, "she'll still be there."

"How can you be sure?"

"Easy. I'm not that lucky."

***

Sometimes, Matt hated being right.

When they got back, she was sitting on the couch, reading a novel. She said nothing; didn't even look up as they got in.

Mohinder carried Molly to bed without a word.

***

The war of silence continued the next day.

The whole apartment felt muffled with it, like the words Mohinder and his mom weren't saying were too loud to talk over. Matt ignored it best as he could. He focused on getting a subdued Molly to school on time, hung around the station until Lamb threatened to use him as a human dartboard if he didn't go home and then rode the Long Island ferry until it was time to pick Molly up again. But after a night of increasingly uncomfortable conversations, where Mohinder and his mom talked to Molly but not each other, he had to say something.

"You know I don't like your mom, right?" Matt asked after Mohinder came to bed.

From the darkness beside him, Mohinder said quietly, "She will only be here another few days. If you could be patient a little longer, this will be over."

"That wasn't what I meant." Matt shimmied across the bed. Mohinder was lying on his back so it was easy to loop an arm around chest and mouth a kiss to the fine skin behind his ear. "I meant that I don't like the woman, so I'm saying this for your benefit, not hers. Talk to her."

"She's the one who isn't talking to me."

"It doesn't matter. She's your mom, you don't see her often. You don't want the visit to end like this."

"I don't want to talk to her," Mohinder said quietly, hand snaking around Matt's back.

"Whatever happens, it won't be as bad as you're imagining."

"No, it could be worse."

"It won't be."

"I already know her opinion of the situation." Even in the dark, Matt could tell Mohinder was frowning. "I can't imagine her saying anything I would want to hear."

"Then don't talk about me and Molly. Just tell her that it was good to see her, that you'd missed her, but talk to her. You don't want this to end on a fight."

"Maybe I do. Maybe it's best."

"Well, I don't want it ending like this," Matt said, propping himself up on an elbow and poking Mohinder's shoulder. "It'll mess with my cunning plan."

Mohinder snorted. "Cunning plan?"

"It's a very cunning plan. It involves you taking Friday off work and spending the day with me while Molly's at school."

"As far as ulterior motives go, that's not particularly devious," Mohinder pointed out. "And I can't see how talking to my mother will have any impact on it."

"If you don't talk to her before she leaves Thursday night, you'll be moody and introspective on Friday. Personally," Matt added, before Mohinder could argue, "I'd prefer you in a better mood. And naked."

Mohinder huffed, but didn't say anything.

"Think about it," Matt said, letting it end there. He knew when to pick his battles.

***

He caught Mohinder in the bathroom the next morning. Standing in front of the mirror, Mohinder was putting the electric shaver down as Matt stepped behind him and slid two hands around his waist. "Did you think about my cunning plan?"

"Yes." Mohinder caught his gaze in the mirror, then smiled. "I'll arrange to take Friday off."

"And…?" Matt prompted.

Mohinder grimaced but leaned back against Matt's chest. "I don't want to talk to her."

"I know." Pressing a kiss against Mohinder's bare shoulder, Matt added, "But it's the right thing to do."

"That's hardly fair."

"I've seen what you'll do to protect me and Molly, what you'll do to protect anyone who needs it. I know what sort of guy you are," Matt said and Mohinder's reflection looked surprised but pleased. "I know you'd want to fix this."

"Not right now, not this morning," Mohinder stalled, placing his hands over Matt's.

"Then tonight."

"But not in front of Molly." For a moment, Mohinder looked angry, then he hid it beneath a wry smile. "I can't be sure of what my mother would say and I don't want Molly to--"

"Okay," Matt said, talking over him. "Not in front of Molly. I can take her out or we can get someone to watch her, if you want me there."

Lower lip caught between white teeth, Mohinder thought for a moment. Finally, he shook his head. "It would probably be better if it were only the two of us. You look after Molly. I'll take my mother out for dinner."

"Think of it as paving the way for the future," Matt said, giving Mohinder's hands a squeeze and then stepping away. "It's a way of showing Molly that no matter how ugly an argument gets, when it's family, you can come back on it. You want her to have that example."

Mohinder turned, looking a little amused. "Why?"

"In ten years time, we're going to have the exact same argument with her. I'd bet good money on that."

For a moment, Mohinder looked stunned. Then he started to chuckle. "Fine, tonight. Now go before you give me nightmares of our future," he said, and shooed Matt out the door.

***

In a weird way, Matt had gotten used to passing the day with Mohinder's mom in virtual silence. He didn't really notice the difference.

She still sat reading while he watched TV and sorted laundry. She still cooked her own lunch and made herself cups of tea.

The only difference was that she paused when he got himself a glass of juice from the fridge and said, "My son--" and then stopped.

Matt could have ignored her. Pretended he didn't hear and walked back to the couch. Maybe he should have, but he heard himself saying, "Yeah?"

"He can be very rash," she said, glancing down at the floor. "He will commit to an idea before he fully understands the implications and the sacrifices it will demand."

Matt blinked. One argument in every twenty-four hours was enough, so he curbed his urge to defend Mohinder's 'rash' choices. "Then I'm pretty lucky," he said instead. When Mohinder's mom looked up in surprise, he added, "In this city, it's nearly impossible to find a guy who's willing to commit."

She blinked at him in shock. Matt had a tiny moment of feeling smug.

***

Matt picked Molly up at school. He let her play with the other kids for a while and then dawdled to the pizza place on the corner.

He was secretly relieved that the apartment was empty when they got back. It meant he could turn the TV on -- cartoons, obviously -- tear the pizza box in half, and eat on the couch.

He handed Molly the box lid but she looked unimpressed. "We're supposed to eat dinner at the table."

"I won't tell if you won't."

Molly gave him a shrewd look, then took the makeshift cardboard plate. She helped herself to two slices and settled down on the couch beside Matt.

It was two commercial breaks later before she thought to ask, "Where's Mohinder?"

"He took his mom out for dinner. It's her last night here," Matt managed not to sound too gleeful at the thought, "and he wanted to spend some time with her."

"I thought they were fighting," Molly said, biting into the sliver of crust that remained of her second slice.

"You want another piece?" Matt offered and she stole the one with the most anchovies. "They weren't really fighting."

"They were arguing. And then they weren't talking."

Matt nudged her shoulder with his. "Sometimes kids and parents argue. It's not the end of the world."

"But…" Looking down, Molly picked an anchovy off her slice and popped it into her mouth. She was quiet for a while and Matt was tempted to use his powers, just a little. If it wasn't for that pesky deal he had with Mohinder -- no stupid split-second decisions about the Company, no using his powers at home without Mohinder's agreement -- he would have.

What was the point of having super-powers if he had to watch his little girl pout and pick on fish?

"What, Molly?"

She shrugged, then said, "I think they were fighting about me."

"Not exactly." Because Matt was a coward, he bit into his pizza and stalled for time as he chewed. "It was more about Mohinder than you."

"Uh-huh?"

She still looked worried, so Matt thought carefully about how to phrase it. "You know how much Mohinder likes living here?"

"In this apartment?" For a moment, she smiled. "Even though it's too small for three people and we could afford a better place and a kid should really have a yard to play in?"

Matt winced. Clearly, Molly's ears were better than he'd thought. Or she faked sleep very well. "I meant New York, but close enough. Anyway, Mohinder's mom wants him to move back to India, to live closer to her."

Molly nodded. Then she asked quietly, "Matt?"

"Yeah?"

She placed a hand on his and for a moment, he worried about what Molly would say. Carefully, as if she was scared of hurting his feelings, she said, "I don't think Mohinder's mom likes you very much."

Matt did not laugh. He might have snorted, but he didn't laugh. "Yeah, I get that impression too. But it's okay. I think Mohinder likes me enough for both of them."

Satisfied, she turned back to the cartoons. Matt concentrated on not laughing. (That could wait until he told Mohinder about this conversation.)

***

After he put Molly to bed, Matt sat on the couch until he heard footsteps outside their door. He switched the TV off and retreated to the bedroom as keys jangled in the lock.

He'd just got into bed when Mohinder came in, looking tired. "How'd it go?"

"As well as could be expected," Mohinder said, sitting on the edge of Matt's side of the bed. "We both clarified our positions, but she made it clear she thinks Mira is better suited to me."

Mohinder sighed. There was something about the way he said Mira's name that made Matt suspicious.

"Your mom invited Mira to join you?"

"How did you guess?" Mohinder asked dryly. "My mother had arranged for her to meet us there."

Pushing a hand through his hair, Matt was filled with exasperation, and a very tiny bit of admiration, for her persistence. "That woman just doesn't give up."

"I've never known her to give in without a battle." Mohinder slumped forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "I'm quite sure she always had her own way. It's why I was so surprised she let my father leave for America without a fight."

Matt smoothed a hand down Mohinder's spine, thin cotton shirt warm under his palm. He wished he could make this easier. "How was the meal?"

"The food was fine. The company… it was terribly awkward. Mira used the excuse of an early flight to leave within the first hour. I stood with her while she waited for a taxi," Mohinder added suddenly. Mohinder's mouth twisted in confusion or embarrassment, Matt wasn't sure which. "Apparently, Mira thinks you're quite lovely."

Matt couldn't help himself. He snuck a quick peek inside Mohinder's head, caught the echo of the memory. _'Really, Mohinder,'_ he heard Mira saying fondly, _'your Matthew is quite lovely. Eventually your mother will see that too.'_

Feeling a little ashamed, Matt pulled back. "Okay, fine. Mira's on the Christmas card list."

Mohinder chuckled. "My mother and I did talk. I think it's a truce. Or an agreement to disagree. But we're talking."

Grinning, Matt fought the urge to say 'I told you so,' but Mohinder read him like a book. He raised an eyebrow and said, "If it's going to stop you grinning like a Cheshire Cat, you might as well say it."

"Say what?"

"I told you so?"

"Nah." Matt reached up, hooking an arm around Mohinder's shoulders and another around his ribs, and tugged hard. Mohinder toppled across Matt's chest, reaching hands out to catch himself and landed with his face mashed against Matt's collarbone.

Mohinder pulled his head up a few inches, enough to shake his head at Matt in mock-disappointment and say, "Matthew."

"I can think of better things to tell you," Matt said softly, pressing a kiss against Mohinder's roughly stubbled cheek, just because it was there and easy to reach.

Separated by covers, by clothes, by the knowledge that tomorrow night they'd have their place back so tonight wasn't going anywhere, Mohinder still mmm'd close to Matt's ear and curled a hand under the sleeve of Matt's t-shirt. "What would you tell me?"

"That you did the right thing," Matt said, sucking a soft kiss to the corner of Mohinder's chin. "That our daughter knows your mom doesn't like me. And was worried about telling me, in case she hurt my feelings."

Barely an inch from his own face, Mohinder's raised eyebrow popped into view. "Really?"

So Matt told him word for word. This time, he let himself laugh.

***

The next night, they got to the airport two hours early. Matt had planned the route and the timing. He didn't care that they were early, as long as they made it. (There was no way in hell that woman was missing her flight and spending so much as an extra few hours in their apartment.) He'd said as much to Mohinder, who merely nodded, kissed his cheek and said, "Don't kill her before she's finished packing," and disappeared out the door.

The day hadn't been too bad. She'd packed while Matt spent most of the time waiting in the bedroom, listening to his iPod at maximum volume.

Now they were sitting at the departure gate in uncomfortable plastic chairs, surrounded by rows of identical chairs and buzzed or weary travellers, and waiting for the call to board. Matt was staring out the big glass window, watching the baggage handlers load the plane. A big black suitcase fell off the ramp, clattering to the ground; Mott hoped really, really hard it was the one that belonged to Mohinder's mom.

Beside him, the steady flow of Tamil stopped and he glanced up as Mohinder stood. "Molly wants a drink," Mohinder explained, clearly needing a break. "We will be back in a few minutes."

Matt could have glared. Instead, he looked at the clock: ninety-three minutes to go. He kept staring at the clock (ninety-one minutes) until a coolly civil, "Detective Parkman?" made him turn.

Once he'd made eye-contact, he was pretty sure he couldn't ignore her outright. "Yeah?" he asked warily, silently willing Mohinder to get back. Right now.

"I know my son and I know what is best for him," she said and Matt almost groaned in frustration. "He may refuse to acknowledge sense, but returning home would be in his best interest, just as I believe Mira would be a better match for his future."

Rubbing a hand along his jaw, Matt couldn't help checking the clock again. Still ninety minutes to go. "He doesn't agree. Neither do I."

"Eventually, he will stop being so stubborn and he will re-evaluate his priorities and come home. But until he does," she paused, glancing down and then stared him square in the eye, "take care of him."

There was no mistaking it for a request: it was an order, plain and simple. Matt knew how to respond to orders. "Yes, ma'am."

Thankfully, she fell silent until Mohinder returned.

***

When the call finally came, there were hugs for Mohinder and Molly. Matt got a terse nod and, "Please remember what we discussed." Then she was lining up, presenting her boarding pass, and disappearing down the narrow corridor as Molly waved.

"Should we go?" Mohinder asked, but Matt shook his head.

"Not until the plane takes off. I want to be certain she's gone." Mohinder stayed beside him, one hand low on his back, until the plane rumbled down the asphalt and lifted into the air. "Now we can go."

Halfway out, surrounded by busy, tired crowds, Matt remembered something. "Did I mention my mom's team won their bridge tournament?"

Mohinder shook his head, smiling a little. "I don't think so."

"The finals are being held in Manhattan and they won a place. She'll be here the last weekend this month."

The expression Mohinder turned on him was one of utter terror. "She will?"

"Don't worry," Matt said quickly. "We'll tell her we're out of town that weekend."

Mohinder's hand slipped into his. "My hero," he teased and Matt laughed.  



End file.
